Heir Apparent
by BlooAngels
Summary: A Marine is murdered in a New York suburb, and the team tries to find his killer as well as the 'package' he sent into hiding...
1. Chapter 1

_**Southern New York State…**_

A sedan backs into a driveway in a quiet suburb and a small family starts piling out of the car. One of the kids points to the house next door. It sits at the end of the block, and has several broken windows.

"Mike, look," the wife says. "Jenna's place got vandalized. She's been gone a while, too. See the lawn? I wonder if she knows. She didn't say anything about leaving, either."

Mike frowned. "We were gone all week, Jackie, so it isn't like she could say anything; her house probably got trashed by some local kids. We were lucky it didn't happen to us! I'll call the police when we get the kids inside. Somebody should take a look around the place; maybe one of the other neighbors saw something."

The wind shifts, blowing towards them from their neighbor's house, and the couple suddenly cover their noses.

"UGH! That's **rot**!" Jackie exclaimed. "Oh, God, I hope nothing happened to her. I want to go over and see if she is ok."

Mike looked nauseous. "I don't think that's a good idea. Let's just get inside and call the cops. We have the kids to look after. If there is anything gross over there, I don't want them to get into it. It's probably just a dead animal anyway."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll go get the kids something to eat." She closes her door awkwardly, and it doesn't latch. "Darnit. My hands are full. Can you get my door, dear?"

Mike smiled. "Don't I always? Go on, I'll grab the rest of this."

His wife takes her bags, and follows the kids into the house. Mike walks around to his Jackie's door, opens it, and gives it a decisive **SLAM**. Next door, a light pops on in response to the sound….

A sudden explosion tears through their neighbor's house. Shrapnel rains down on Mike, who crouches flat against his car. It had shielded him from the blast. He looks up in shock and horror at the flaming house…

Lying in the long backyard grass is the body of a dead black man. He is dressed in blue jeans and a polo shirt. He has several bullet wounds, and his right hand has been severed. A scarf is tied to one arm, partially covering a tattoo. A military chain with a dog tag dangles from his neck. He has a holster in his belt, but the gun is missing. There are flies buzzing above him…

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

_**NCIS squadroom…. **_

McGee was already sitting at his desk, talking on the phone, when DiNozzo walked in, carrying a cup of coffee and munching on a donut.

"Good morning, Probies!" he said jovially, but there was no response.

Ziva sat quietly at her desk, looking at a picture of two young girls, a lit candle in front of her. DiNozzo sat down and peered over his computer at his partner.

"You know, Ziva, we aren't supposed to have open flames in the office." He paused as she gave him a 'shut up' look, but is too somber to reply. "What?"

McGee hung up and motioned with his head. "You might want to leave her alone, Tony. It's an anniversary of sorts."

DiNozzo looked puzzled. "Anniversary? Of what?"

"My baby sister," Ziva said quietly. "It has been 15 years since she died. I promised I would never forget her, so I light a candle twice a year for her: once for her birth, and once for her death."

"That's really nice, Ziva. I can't imagine loosing Sarah like that. When she almost got killed, I thought I would go crazy," Tim said gently.

"I can't really relate," Tony admitted, shaking his head. "No siblings."

"Which is why you're never getting Sarah's address or phone number out of me, Tony!" McGee said mockingly.

Ziva smiled a little. "I agree. I wouldn't trust you with my sister either, and she is dead!"

DiNozzo scowled in mock seriousness. "OUCH! That was below the belt."

Ziva smiled conspiratorially. "Everything is below the belt with you, Tony."

"Hey! What is this, 'Pick on DiNozzo Day'? Don't you people have some work to do?" Tony protested.

Abby, walking through with a CafPow, overheard. "Yes it is, no they don't, and check your calendar." She said, and threw a paper wad from her straw at him.

DiNozzo caught the paper wad, and then bent over to look at his calendar. "Hey…it **does** say 'Pick on DiNozzo Day' here…**Who wrote on my OSU calendar**?"

Ziva and McGee both throw paper wads at Tony when he sits up, just as Special Agent Gibbs walks into the squad room.

"I didn't hear the bell for recess!" He yelled. "Grab your gear! Tony, get Ducky and Palmer, tell them to get the truck. We have a dead Marine in a southern New York suburb." He pauses at Ziva's desk. "**Candle**, Ziva. Now move out."

Ziva blows out her candle, and the team members grab their backpacks and move to the elevator. Smoke from the extinguished candle curls upward as the team leaves the bullpen.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Crime Scene…**_

The burned-out New York house had become a crime scene; the fire still smoked a little and the police were present with the fire marshal. The neighbor's house was damaged on one side, and a crowd stood outside of the crime-scene tape. The NCIS car and truck pulled up, and Gibbs and his team piled out of their vehicles. Gibbs flashed his NCIS ID to the police chief before speaking.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, Chief. Where's our vic?" He asked, businesslike.

The chief straightened up and sighed. "Good, you're here. It's over here under the tarp. I was going to have our coroner remove the body, but he said we should call you first, since he was a Marine."

Gibbs nodded curtly. "Good call. My medical officer will appreciate that." He turned to Ducky and pointed. "Hey Ducky! He's over here!" Turning to the fire marshal, he asked "Is the house safe to inspect? We need to sweep it for evidence."

"Absolutely not," the Marshal said. "This was a gas explosion, Agent Gibbs, and it looks like it had been building up for days. I can't vouch for any structural integrity here; it's too dangerous. There was damage to the house and vehicle next door, and debris scattered across the better part of the block. You're going to have a hard time gathering evidence."

"Understood," Gibbs nodded. Turning to the team, "DiNozzo: sketch. Ziva: shoot. McGee, check out the house, but do not enter, it isn't safe.." He walked over to the body and Ducky. "Y'got a TOD for me, Duck?"

Around them, the team went to work.

"Just a minute, Jethro," Ducky murmured. "Hmm. Judging from his cool temperature, the rate of decay, and assorted fly larvae, I'd say at least three days ago, give or take about 6 hours. Sorry I can't be more precise, Jethro."

"Cause of death? Was it the gas from the house?"

"Gracious, no. That would have been much cleaner." Ducky pointed to several wounds on the man's chest. "These are old-fashioned bullet wounds, Jethro. The gas explosion was probably an accident. He was left out here by whoever killed him; they weren't worried about the house. Must have been in a hurry."

"Any ID on him?"

"Well, his wallet is missing; it isn't on him, unless it's in the grass somewhere around here." Ducky mused. "I pulled a dog tag out of his mouth, though, and according to that, this is Master Sergeant Irving J. Bell, USMC. I'll know more when I can get him back to autopsy."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, writing in his notebook.

The police chief motioned to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs! This man wants to talk to you!"

Gibbs walked back to the chief, who was talking to a bandaged-up Mike. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. What can I do for you?"

"Mike Brown. I live next door, and I know who lives here. My wife and kids are going crazy. They know you found a body. Please tell me it isn't Jenna! She and my wife have been good friends."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, our vic is a male. If you're up to it, do you want to try and identify him? Maybe you can help us out."

Mike swallowed nervously. "I'll try."

He followed Gibbs back to the body, looked at it once, and turned away to retch.

"Oh, god. It's Jake." He retched again, then wiped his mouth. "You haven't found Jenna? I hope to god she wasn't inside that house when it went up."

"We haven't found any other victims, Mr. Brown. Can you tell us anything about Jake here? How well did you know him?" Gibbs prompted.

Mike, still shaking and coughing a little, looked pleadingly at Gibbs. "Can we move away from the body? That's just wrong…"

"Yeah," said Gibbs, and they walked short distance. "What can you tell me? Anything might help."

Mike took a deep breath. "Jenna is single; Jake was a close friend. She was gone a lot for work. Jake sometimes picked her up when she needed a ride. He slept over a lot, but I don't think there was anything going on between them, you know? No chemistry; my wife is really good at picking up on things like that." He paused. "God, I hope she's ok. Maybe she is just gone for work, and missed all this, but if that's so, she's really going to be torn up about Jake. They were really close. When they were here, sometimes we would barbecue together, you know? Jenna is a good neighbor. Jake told some great stories, too, about being in the Corps."

"Do you have any way we can contact Jenna at work? It would sure make my job easier." Gibbs asked gently.

Mike nodded. "My wife might have her number on her cell…I can go ask." He walked away.

McGee and Ziva (simultaneously) "Got something here, Boss!"

Ziva shot several pictures of a handgun lying in the weeds a short distance away from the body, as well as a broken cell phone, a bloody hand in the grass, and some bullet holes in the remaining house siding.

"Good work, people. Bag it up," Gibbs commanded.

**NCISNCISNCISNCIS**

_**NCIS squad room…**_

McGee sat, typing furiously on his computer. Ziva bent over her desk, talking to someone on the phone, and the candle on her desk had been re-lit. DiNozzo was also on the phone, but his feet were up on his desk, and he leaned back in his chair. The military file and picture of Master Sergeant Bell show on the large screen display above them.

Gibbs walked in and smacked DiNozzo's feet off his desk. "Ok, talk to me people."

DiNozzo hung up and grabbed the remote. "Master Sergeant Bell, age 32, parents deceased, raised in NYC by his grandparents. They are also deceased. He joined the Corps right out of high school as a way to get out of the ghetto. Never married, he was apparently working as head of security for a fashion design company out of NYC. I found that odd, as he was never discharged from the Marines, and he wasn't listed as AWOL. He had a working knowledge of German and French. He was wounded while on shore leave in Portugal five years ago, intervening in a public PETA protest at a fashion show: one of the more radical protesters drew a gun and started shooting at the fashionistas. He took a round to the left shoulder and left thigh at point-blank range, and still managed to subdue the shooter and hold him until the police could arrive."

Gibbs sipped his coffee. "Good man."

Dinozzo nodded. "The fashionistas were certainly impressed. They paid for his medical treatment while he was laid up, and Bell was visited by several members of their staff as well as the models while he was in the hospital." He grinned. "Almost worth getting shot for, huh boss?"

Gibbs glared at Tony. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Any word about this fashion company?"

"Yes," said McGee. Taking the remote from Tony, he continued. "The Naz'rani Collection is owned and operated by the Naz'rani brothers: Simeon and Chileab. They're Jordanian by birth, in their early 30's. The company has offices in NYC, London, Paris, Rome, you name it. Simeon is the master designer; Chileab runs the business."

"Muslim?" asked Gibbs.

"No, Eastern Orthodox Christian," answered McGee. "Simeon was disowned by his father almost 15 years ago for homosexuality. He left the country to go to design school in France, and interned with the likes of Christian Dior and Armani. He broke away to form his own company at the age of 25, but couldn't handle the finances. Chileab apparently left the family behind to help his brother when their father died. They regularly send money home to support their mother and younger sister, Nemini."

Ziva hung up and joined them at the plasma. "What happened? The company was so poorly run it should have gone bankrupt. How did they get in the blue?"

"It's 'black', Ziva," corrected Tony.

McGee clicked the remote to bring up a young woman's picture: Caucasian, in her mid-20's, with brown hair and brown eyes. "This woman joined the company as an accountant: Jenna D'Arcy. Age 27, born and raised in Dallas, Texas, she went to college on a skeet scholarship and came out with a Master's degree in accounting and business management. Fluent in French. Mother still lives in Dallas, father is unknown. There are some hinky-looking court documents attached to the mom's name; the records are sealed."

"What is 'skeet'?" asked Ziva.

"Shooting for nerds," explained Tony. "The target is a small Frisbee launched by a machine. The shooter has to knock them down with a small rifle or shotgun. I can't believe it is a competitive sport!"

"Criminal activity?" asked Gibbs.

Tony snorted. "No, skeet is perfectly legal…" Gibbs slapped the back of his head. "Ow! Oh, the court documents…"

"No," explained Tim, "it's all family court. That's why it's hinky. Anyway, after she graduated, she applied for the position with the Naz'rani Collection, and had their books showing a profit within a month."

"Leave it to a woman to handle the money…almost always a good idea," mused Gibbs.

" 'Almost' always, Gibbs?" asked Ziva.

Gibbs took another gulp of his coffee. "Never mind. So this lady owns the house where Master Sergeant Bell was found? How did they connect?"

DiNozzo took the remote back from McGee. "At the shooting in Portugal. Miss D'Arcy was one of the support staff at the show, and was in the shooter's direct line of fire. Apparently someone in the crowd jostled the shooter's arm, and it went wide. He would have killed her if not for Master Sergeant Bell's actions. She was one of his regular visitors in the hospital, and they have stayed close ever since." He paused, scowling. "I swear I've seen this girl somewhere before."

Ziva snorted. "You use that line with half the women you meet, Tony."

"Any word on her whereabouts yet?" pressed Gibbs.

" No," said Ziva. "I have spoken to the personnel director at her office, and they say they have not seen or heard from her in almost a week. There was some sort of altercation at the office several days ago, and she was escorted out by Master Sergeant Bell. Neither of them has been seen since, until Bell's body was found yesterday. She is not answering her cell phone or her email, and her car is unaccounted for. Her mother has not heard from her either, and is frantic with worry."

"Skeet expert," mused Gibbs, "she could be the shooter…I want a complete list of any and all firearms she owns or had access to, as well as the ballistics report from Bell's body. I want it _yesterday_."

"On it Boss," said McGee, staring at his computer screen. "Hmmm…This is odd…"

"What?" asked Tony, "That her mother is worried, or that D'Arcy could have shot a friend?"

"No," said McGee. "According to this article in _European Fashion Today, _Simeon and Jenna eloped in Paris right after the closing his show." He magnified the magazine picture of the wedding." Chileab supposedly hit the roof. The marriage was annulled a few days later."

"Gee, I _wonder_ why…" snarked Tony.

"That's probably where you have seen her face before, Tony," offered McGee. "Their pictures were all over every scandal sheet for about two weeks; their quickie marriage and divorce caused quite the stir in the fashion world."

"Annulment, not divorce. _Believe_ me, there's a difference," snapped Gibbs.

"Do I look like the kind of guy that reads that kind of crap?" Tony said defensively. Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva all turned to glare at him. "Ok, never mind…"

"DiNozzo, David," Gibbs commanded, "I want you two to head up to the Naz'rani Collection offices in DC, and interview Bell and D'Arcy's bosses and co-workers. See if they have any security tape they can give us. McGee, get back on the phone. I need to know if Miss D'Arcy's remains were found in the house; the fire marshal will have cleared it for inspection by now. I also want to know how a Marine Master Sergeant was working a civilian job while supposedly on active duty. Ziva: candle. Go people! I'm going down to see Duck."

"I'll drive," Ziva volunteered as she blew out her candle.

"I don't think so," said Tony, grabbing the keys. "There are a too many people in NYC, you can't avoid them all!" They bickered all the way to the elevator.

McGee picked up his phone. "Hello, Marshal? This is Special Agent McGee, NCIS…"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_**NCIS Autopsy…**_

The body of Master Sergeant Bell lay open on an examination table. Ducky pulled bullets out of the chest cavity, tossed them into an evidence jar, and then passed them to Jimmy Palmer.

"To Abby, please, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said.

"Yes doctor," said Jimmy. He brushed past Gibbs as he entered Autopsy. "Excuse me, Agent Gibbs."

"No problem, Palmer." He nodded at Jimmy. "What have you got for me, Duck?"

" Ahh, Jethro. I was beginning to wonder when you would show up. I've nearly finished my examination of our young friend here," Ducky said jovially.

"And?"

"Well, it's a pretty standard death for an active duty marine: lead poisoning, you might say. I sent the slugs up to Abby just now. It isn't the bullets that are curious, though, it is the rest of the marks on his body that I found intriguing. Notice these abrasions on his left hand and knuckles? And here, folding the abdominal skin back, "these bruises? He was fighting a day or so before he was shot. He has another small bruise on his chin and some odd-looking marks on his back-probably where he fell backwards and landed on something hard."

"That doesn't sound too odd for an active duty marine, either, Ducky. These boys play kind of rough. I agree, though, the timing is suspicious. Anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"Now that you mention it, yes: his severed hand." Ducky motioned to the maimed limb. "The same abrasions appear on those knuckles, of course, but I find the severing itself odd. It was obviously done close to his time of death, perhaps immediately after he was killed. That and the scarf I removed from his arm stood out a bit, too."

"Why," mused Gibbs? "He was working for a fashion company. Wouldn't an odd clothing combination just help him fit in better?"

Ducky smiled. "You'll wear jeans and a T-shirt until the day you die, Jethro, and I would _faint_ if I ever saw you in a Tuxedo. I should have shared this with Mr. DiNozzo. Our young Marine's clothing was top-of-the-line sportswear. He spent time with people who felt that the clothes make the man."

"Ducky, you're starting to sound like DiNozzo. Is there a point to all this?"

Ducky sighed. "Yes, Jethro. The scarf was out of place. It didn't go with this outfit, or any other outfit _like_ it. I've sent our young friend's clothing up to Abby, but I think you will find that the scarf wasn't originally his; it is something only a _woman_ would wear. It reminds me of a custom from the Middle Ages, when a knight would fight for the favor of his 'lady fair'. The favor was often a handkerchief or scarf, which the knight would then tie onto his lance, or the handle of his sword, or tuck into his armor. I would be willing to wager that scarf was a last-minute gift. Isn't your search is now focused on a young woman?"

"Yep, it is, Duck, but she might be the killer…"

"Somehow I doubt that," Ducky glowered. "Find the woman, Jethro. Find the woman, and you find out _why he died_. As for the severed hand... It was the right hand only. Isn't it common practice in some Middle Eastern cultures to sever the hand of a thief caught in the act? I believe it is some sort of ongoing punishment; he can never hide his shame from the rest of the community. Which makes an interesting puzzle indeed…"

"The _woman_ may have been the thing stolen?" Gibbs looked thoughtful.

"That is a possibility, yes," Ducky nodded.

"Thanks, Duck. Keep me posted." Gibbs turned and left Autopsy.

"I always do, Jethro," Ducky said to Gibbs' back. Turning to the body, he started chatting with Master Sergeant Bell's body. "Well, my young friend, let's see if I can't make you presentable again…"

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

_**Abby's lab.**_

Music pounded through the lab while Abby stood hunched over her work table. One cell phone lay in pieces on a tray, next to a whole identical model, completely absorbing Abby's attention. Gibbs walked in as she snapped the last piece of the cover in place.

"Hey Gibbs," she said brightly, "did you come to see what I found?"

"Nah, Abbs, I just really missed you," Gibbs joked. "So, you found something? Got the cell phone working again?"

"Technically no. I just removed the necessary information chips and patched them into this model here," she motioned to the whole phone. "If this works, I'll be able to tell who the last people calling him were, as well as the last few calls he placed." She turned to her computer again. "This should help…"

"Help what?" asked Gibbs. The screen filled up with data. "Oh, that…"

"Help us see who was calling whom, without having to bend over the same microscope. The font on these babies is _really_ small. Hmmmmmmmm," Abby continued, "he was a popular guy. His voicemail logged a _bunch_ of different calls in the last 5 days—until it ran out of recording room. After that, it only recorded missed calls and times."

"Hmmm," said Gibbs. "Looks like it was his boss: over and over and over again. Maybe both bosses: Naz'rani many times, but with different initials after the last name. Can you sort these out for me, and get some positive ids and phone numbers?"

Abby grinned. "Please, Gibbs. I could do that in my sleep. I need an extra set of hands, though. I still have to finish analysis on Bell's clothing _and_ the bullets Jimmy just brought me. Could I borrow McGee?"

Gibbs nodded. "I'll send him down, but it might be awhile. Anything on that scarf yet, Abbs? Ducky thought it was a girlie thing."

Abby smirked. "Ducky has remarkable taste. It is indeed a girly scarf. 100% silk, in colors that _no_ self-respecting marine would be caught dead in…" Gibbs gave her an annoyed look, "except...that…this marine was caught dead in it. I also found some hair in the scarf, which might indicate that the woman in question was wearing it on her head just before giving it to him."

"The hair wasn't from our Master Sergeant?" Gibbs frowned.

"Nope. It's about 18 inches long, light brown, and shows evidence of being recently dyed and then trimmed. Plus, it's chock full of artificial conditioners, and perhaps a hot oil treatment. _This_ is girly hair," she insisted.

"Thanks Abbs. Keep me posted." Gibbs turned to leave.

"Wait, there's more!" Abby exclaimed.

"How much more?" Gibbs returned to her side.

"You know how the state police identified our officer?" Abby hinted.

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah: by his dog tags. They were in his mouth."

"Not tags, Gibbs: TAG. Singular. Don't they always come in pairs? And the chain wasn't broken, either. One tag is missing," Abby explained.

"Which means what, Abby?"

Abby stepped back and gave Gibbs 'the look'. "How should I know, Gibbs? I'm merely a lowly scientist. YOU'RE the investigator."

"There's nothing lowly about your work, Abbs!" He smiled, gave Abby a gentle kiss on her cheek, and walked out.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_**A New York City high-rise office building: the Naz'rani Collection Headquarters.**_

Agents DiNozzo and David walked into the receptionist's area, talking as they entered.

"By the way, Tony, I looked up this shooting sport of yours, this 'skeet'," Ziva said casually. "It actually has a purpose. Participants are not shooting at plastic beach toys, but flying clay targets. It is supposed to increase a person's skill when hunting birds, is it not?"

"Well, yeah, but I still find it infantile," DiNozzo snorted. "The things I shoot at usually shoot back! The most a skeet aficionado has to worry about is clay dust. Not exactly challenging, if you ask me."

A pretty brunette receptionist spoke from behind the desk. "Welcome to the Naz'rani Corporation. Can I help you?"

DiNozzo leaned on the counter. "Yes. We're here on official business. I'm NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and this is Probationary Agent Ziva David."

"Which office do you need? I can page him or her for you…" the receptionist began, but was interrupted by the entrance of a smartly dressed businesswoman holding a clipboard full of papers. She addressed the receptionist first.

"Amanda, please hold all my calls today. I'm expecting some officers to visit about Jake and Jenna's disappearance, and don't want to be disturbed. Has either of them tried to contact the office?"

"No, Ms. Blakely, but this couple just arrived from NCIS. I think they need to see you..." the young woman motioned to Tony and Ziva, and the female executive turned towards the agents.

"From the Natural Couture Imaging Service? I haven't called for any new models lately, but my dear," she gushed, admiring Ziva, "you're _fabulous._ You have _just_ the look we like to see on our runway. A little rough around the edges, especially with those boots, how can you wear those clunky things? You really need better shoes, not to mention slacks…or better yet, a skirt…you really shouldn't hide _legs_ like that, darling…"

DiNozzo looked horrified.

Ziva smiled. "Thank you, Ms. Blakely, but I'm afraid that…"

Ms. Blakely continued to gush. "And you're Middle Eastern, I would guess from Israel, by the accent…even better! I can't say much for your friend, though. Son, you just _aren't_ the type we need at the moment. We would have to get you into a gym, and you're just a hair too…. _mature_ for the kind of modeling our men do…although if we do expand into a middle-aged market I can be sure to call you…You do seem to know how to hold yourself…" she walked around both Tony and Ziva, eyeing them up and down.

DiNozzo looked increasingly horrified, and tried to interrupt. "Ms. Blakely…"

"And obviously you would need to drop a few pounds…

Ziva laughed out loud, but DiNozzo finally had enough and pulled out his badge.

"MS. BLAKELY, we are _not_ with the modeling agency. I am Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and this is Probationary Agent Ziva David. We're with the Department of the Navy, here to investigate the disappearance of two of your employees," he exclaimed, exasperated.

Ms. Blakely blinked twice, stunned. "Well, why didn't you say so? This way, please…"

She led them out of the foyer to her office, where they all sat down. Around them, in various cubicles, various designers sketched clothing patterns. Down the hall, a live model posed for a photographer, a pretty young black woman who called out directions every few moments.

"Is either of your bosses available, Ms. Blakely? We really need to speak to them," Tony began.

"I'm in charge of Human Resources," Ms. Blakely said smoothly, "so if you have any questions about our staff, they should really be addressed to me. I am well acquainted with both Jenna and Jake; they have been with us for several years."

"Jake?" Ziva asked, puzzled. "Who is Jake?"

"You know him as Master Sergeant Bell, Agent David. He hated his first name, so insisted we call him by his middle name, which was Jacob, or Jake," the woman explained.

"Sounds like somebody else I know…" Ziva murmured.

"We can start here, but I will still need to speak with the Mr.'s. Naz'rani," Tony insisted. "I will also need to see anybody who was working the last day they were both here. We understand there was some sort of disturbance, perhaps a fight, and that the individuals in question left in a hurry. Were you here that day?"

"I was here," Blakely nodded, "but at the time of the incident most of us had gone to lunch. Jenna wasn't feeling well; she had been having some stomach trouble, and decided to work through lunch. She was finishing some tax records from our last show, and getting ready for the next one."

"The last show? The one in Paris?" Ziva asked.

"Yes that's correct. Jake stayed behind as well; he had some work to do on one of the security cameras."

"We'll need to see any footage from that day, if you have it," Ziva insisted. "Was anybody else in the building?"

"Yes, both Mr. Naz'rani's were here," Blakely informed them. "Mr. Simeon was upstairs working on some new inspiration of his own, and Mr. Chileab had to do some internet ordering: fabrics, threads, and props for our next show, things like that. The events of the Paris show left them both overworked and quite stressed; there had been a lot of bickering going on. They weren't pleasant to be with."

"Is that unusual," Ziva asked?

Ms. Blakely looked about anxiously, then continued in a hushed voice. "For Mr. Simeon: yes. He is normally very pleasant to work with. But for Mr. Chileab: no. I can't say much more than that here, if you take my meaning."

"How close were Jenna and Jake," Tony inquired?

Ms. Blakely raised her voice to a normal level. "If you mean to ask, are they sleeping together, the answer is NO, perhaps even one of Jake's '**HELL** no's. They weren't like that at all with each other; we would have noticed!"

"Whom do you mean by 'we', Ms. Blakely," Ziva asked?

Ms. Blakely smiled. "The rest of the women in this office, Agent David. Sexual tension in _this_ business gets noticed quickly, and women…_talk_. Besides, Jake is dating someone else here in the building."

"We need to speak to her as well; she may know something that can help us in our investigation," DiNozzo insisted.

Ms. Blakely gave DiNozzo an odd look. "I feel you aren't telling me much. Six days ago Jake and Jenna left in a hurry, and two days ago Jenna's house burned down. Mr. Naz'rani told me that Jenna went to our London office, but she isn't responding to either the phone or our emails. Has anything else happened? Has Jake contacted your office in some way?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, Ms. Blakely," Tony said coolly.

A voice came from the cubicle doorway. The young female photographer stood there; she had apparently been eavesdropping.

"But you _do_ know something," she insisted. "Where is Jake? Is Jenna still with him?"

DiNozzo glanced from Ms. Blakely to the young woman. "Annnnd, you are?"

"This is our stills photographer, Casey Hemmings," Ms Blakely explained.

Ziva looked closely at the young woman's face, and stood up. "Jake's girlfriend, yes?"

"No," said Casey anxiously. "I'm his fiancé. We got married in France when Simeon and Jenna did, but had the same problem with the license."

Ziva took her hand. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private," she asked gently?

"Ziva," Tony said evenly, "what are you doing?"

"She has the right to know, Tony," Ziva said sternly, and she left with Casey.

"Know?" Ms. Blakely said suspiciously. "Know what?"

DiNozzo leaned forward to look Ms. Blakely in the face. "Ms. Blakely: Master Sergeant Bell is dead. He was murdered days ago." She sat back, shocked, her hand to her mouth. "We still can't find Jenna. If you have _any_ information that will help us, such as _why_ you think Jenna left for London, phone numbers, email accounts, vehicles they use, etc. I need to know it _now_. I also need to talk to your bosses, _now_. I will need statements from everyone in this company. If either of them have laptops they use here at the office, I need to take them to my headquarters today. I may need a lot more. _Do you understand?_"

From down the hall, muffled sobs come from the women's restroom: an anguished chorus of "no, no, no, no, no, no…" Tony looked up, gravely.

"I already have to investigate one murder, and Jenna D'Arcy is missing. I don't know if she is the perpetrator, or another victim! Now, can I talk to your bosses, _please_?"

Ms. Blakely shook, and tears ran down her face. "Yes, of course." She reached for her phone…

(Fade out)


	5. Chapter 5

_**NCIS squadroom**_.

McGee looked stressed, trying to juggle a phone conversation and his computer search.

"Thank you, Commander. I really appreciate this. If you remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call. No, time of day doesn't really matter, not with a case like this. (Pause) No, I don't think there will be any easy way to break the news to him either. (Pause) Yes, exactly. Thanks again. Bye." He hung up.

Gibbs walked in. "Break the news to whom, McGee?"

"Oh…boss…I was just on the phone with Master Sergeant Bell's old CO from Bravo Company. Seems our Master Sergeant was leading a double life, but legally," he explained.

"Meaning…" Gibbs prompted?

"Well, certain interested parties had been tailing the Naz'rani Company for a while at the time of the shooting in Portugal. Speculation was that the company was a front for a smuggling operation: a big one," McGee began.

"Smuggling what?" Gibbs spread his hands. "Weapons, personnel, equipment, money, what?"

"Ummmmm…all of it. There was suspicion of ties to certain terrorist groups, like Shining Path and Al Quaeda, but no way to prove it. All of their passports and movements seemed perfectly legitimate, but odd things would happen right after one of their shows." Tim tapped his desk with a pencil.

"Terrorist activity in the surrounding area?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes: car bombings, kidnappings, and the like. Plus, there was an _awful_ lot of money being sent home to mother, even for a widow living with her last remaining child in a rough area of the Middle East," McGee scowled at his computer, and put the numbers up on the plasma for Gibbs to see.

Gibbs stood up and looked at the data McGee had found for him. "So, how did Master Sergeant Bell fit in?"

"When the shooting happened in Portugal, the 'interested parties' saw his impromptu heroics as a foot in the door, and tapped him to work as an inside man, undercover. They needed someone who already had the paperwork necessary to go anywhere the military could go, and the right reason to slip him into a civilian company on American soil, where…"

"…they aren't allowed to operate. Damn, I_ hate_ dealing with the CIA!" Gibbs growled in frustration.

"The person I spoke to wasn't happy about dealing with you either, Boss. Apparently your reputation precedes you." He smiled as he joined his boss at the screen.

Gibbs nodded. "Sometimes it helps to be a mean bastard…Do you have any better news for me, McGee?"

"Well, I don't know about better…ballistics is back on the bullets used to kill Master Sergeant Bell, and a Ms. D'Arcy is in the Director's office. They both want to see you up there, like, _now_."

"A _Ms._ D'Arcy? Not _Jenna_ D'Arcy?" Gibbs looked at his young agent cautiously.

McGee sighed. "No such luck, boss. It's her mother. She caught the red-eye out of Houston, and arrived in DC about an hour ago. She's really upset…"

"Can't say as I blame her." Gibbs jogged up the stairs to the Director's office. "Abby said she needed an extra pair of hands, if you're done."

"On it boss!" McGee rose and left.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

_**Director's office. **_

Director Leon Vance sat talking to a neatly dressed, middle-aged woman, who had obviously been crying. Cynthia handed her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you," the woman sniffed in a muffled Texan accent. "The mud they served on the airplane didn't really qualify as coffee. I needed this."

"You're welcome," Cynthia patted her shoulder. Turning to the director, she added "Do you need anything else, sir? I can try to raise Agent Gibbs again."

Gibbs walked in. "No need, Cynthia. I'm here. Thanks." Cynthia nodded and left.

"Senior Field Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, meet Angela D'Arcy, Jenna's mother. Angela, this is the man leading the team looking for your daughter." Director Vance stood to make the introductions, and motioned for Gibbs to take a chair.

"I understand you have already found my son?" Angela's voice was rough with grief.

Gibbs looked confused. "Son? Ma'am, I thought only your daughter was missing."

"I legally adopted Jacob after he saved my daughter's life in Portugal," Angela explained. "Jenna was_ really_ touched by his actions; other men in her life treated her as trash, especially her father. Jacob took two bullets for her, and she was a stranger! She spent a lot of time visiting him in the hospital, and even donated some of the blood needed for transfusions; he had lost _so_ much. Jake grew up alone, like Jenna did, but he learned brotherhood from the Corps. I think he sensed a need for something like that in Jenna; he made an effort to be her friend. I just made the relationship a legal one. They were both happy with it, I think. He was a good son to me, too." She blew her nose on a handkerchief. "When can I see him?"

"Master Sergeant Bell is still in Autopsy, Ms. D'Arcy," Vance said soothingly. "You wouldn't want to see him now, believe me. We'll take you to him when he is presentable."

"Thank you, Director," she nodded.

"I thought Jenna didn't know her father? We looked at as many records as we could find, and couldn't find any mention of him, not even a name." Gibbs looked puzzled.

"I never said they knew each other, Agent Gibbs. I said he treated her like trash." Angela grew angry as she spoke. "I was foolish, Agent Gibbs. I met Jenna's father at a 1981 Houston business convention. He was funny, smart, and sexy; we got along great, and spent most of the week together. I hoped to get to know him better; I actually _believed_ the crap he told me about being soul mates!"

"But he was married, wasn't he?" Gibbs nodded knowingly.

"Yes, he was married. He had 'forgotten' his ring when he left for the convention," Angela said bitterly. "He also forgot he had a kid. When I tried to contact him a month later to tell him I was pregnant, can you guess what happened?"

"He denied even knowing you," Gibbs surmised.

"Worse, gentlemen. It was much worse." Angela shook her head. "Not only was I immediately slapped with a restraining order, but he sued me for defamation of character! _**He sued me!**_ When my company found out I was pregnant and unmarried, I was **terminated**. They didn't want me to be a bad influence on the rest of the 'young impressionable' staff! I tried to go through proper legal channels, but the situation back then sucked for unwed mothers. I couldn't get him to submit to a paternity test, so I wasn't allowed to name him on her birth certificate. I tried, and the attempt ran into the restraining order!" She twisted the handkerchief at the memory. "He contacted me through his lawyer after that, saying that any more such 'nonsense' would force him to report me to Family Court as _**a neglectful drunk in need of mental health services**_. Any baby I had would be **stripped** from me, and go into foster care. He didn't even bother to learn whether I had a boy or a girl! Not even that!"

Gibbs looked at Vance, shocked. "And _I_ get called a bastard?"

"Only because of your sparkling personality, Gibbs," Vance shifted the toothpick around in his mouth.

Angela continued bitterly. "Jenna grew up a tomboy, alone because she had no siblings, and fatherless, so she was often an outcast. We were very poor…it was hard. I taught her to shoot; sometimes we only had meat for dinner because I had killed it. She paid for college with her skeet championships and scholarships. She grew up really hating men, though, until she met Simeon, and later Jacob. They were the first **real** men in her life that treated her with respect, as a person. It made…a lot of difference."

"Forgive me for asking this, Ms. D'Arcy. Is there any reason that Jake would have…hurt Jenna in any way? Any way that would make her need to defend herself with deadly force? There are obvious signs of a fight on him, and he was shot several times…" Gibbs began.

Angela choked and shook her head. "No….**no**, never. Jake spent a lot of time teaching Jenna, and the other girls at the office, how to defend themselves. He considered it one of his most important jobs. And he would **never** hurt Jenna. He was almost fanatic about protecting her; he would never say from whom."

"I had to ask," Gibbs said evenly. "One more thing: can you tell me what kind of guns Jenna owns and uses?"

Angela shrugged. "She can use almost anything, but prefers her skeet gun. It's an HR 200 Series over-and-under pump-action shotgun, with a custom-made black walnut stock. She calls it Bess. I think it's a Daniel Boone thing." She blew her nose again. "She was really into Daniel Boone stories as a child…"

Gibbs looked impressed, but said nothing.

"Do you have a place to stay, Ms. D'Arcy," Director Vance asked?

"No, not yet. I can get a hotel in the area..." she began.

"No need," Director Vance said decisively. "We can set you up with emergency housing here on the base. You'll be closer that way, when we do find her. Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes, Leon?"

"Would you please send Cynthia back in on your way out?" Gibbs nodded knowingly.

Angela looked up suddenly. "Agent Gibbs? Please find my daughter. She's all I have left now…"

"I will," he said comfortingly, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Abby's lab**.

Tim joined Abby, who was busy with the shattered cell phone records, carrying a CafPow and a large, drinkable yogurt.

Abby reached for the CafPow. "Thanks Tim, I really needed this!" She looked down at Tim's drink and scowled. "What's with the liquid fungus?"

"It isn't fungus, Abby; it's a yogurt smoothie. All those CafPow's were killing my stomach." Tim said dryly. "I had to set my system right." He waved it under her nose teasingly. "It's fruity and healthy, Abs, want some?"

"Bleah, no thanks. I like my food already dead, not multiplying inside me. The very thought gives me the creeps!"Abby made a face.

McGee grinned. "I never figured you for squeamish. So, what's up?"

"It's this cell phone. I can't make any sense of these records, and I have, like, a zillion tests to run on the clothing and bullets yet. Gibbs is gonna want answers pretty soon," Abby said tersely.

"Doesn't he always? Let me in…" Tim shouldered his way in front of Abby's computer and started typing. "Hmmmm. Did you already run his password system through the decryption program? I'll need that…"

"No, McGee. It's only 4 in the afternoon. I'm not up to speed until 10pm; you know that….here." She handed him a sheet of paper. "Funny, most people pick something easy to remember, like birthday or other special dates, but none of these combinations fit Bell's personal life at all. Was he a computer specialist in his other incarnation?"

Tim frowned. "I don't think so…but you're right about his security code. Using a non-date, 6-digit code is pretty smart. There are only about ten thousand different combinations available. Plus, he could have been spelling about anything with the text keys, and only he would know it. Good thing we have Corporal Codebreaker over there. Hmmmmmmm…" He grew quieter. "746366: not a date, not a phone number. How did he remember this?"

Abby walked towards the bullets. "Aren't you even going to listen to the messages, McGee?"

"What? And ignore a possible piece of evidence? That's like me asking if you are going to match those bullets to the gun they came from sometime!"

Abby stuck her tongue out at him; he returned the gesture, and they resumed working. McGee made a table out of the alpha/numeric characters:

P G M D M M

Q H N E N N

R I O F O O

S G M D M M

S H N E N N

S I O F O O

Then plugged in the code, and started listening.

"Shuga? This is Ma, call me when you get in town, ok? Love ya." _Beep._

"This is Mr. Chileab Naz'rani. Call me back." _Beep._

"Hon, this is Cindy. Are we still meeting for lunch? Call me." _Beep._

"The warranty on your vehicle may already have expired…" _Beep._

"Blah, blah, blah, blah…didn't this guy ever clear his message board?" Tim glowered at the screen. "Skip, skip, skip…ok, day before the fight…"

A heavily accented male voice rolled smoothly out of the speaker. "Hey, gorgeous, it's me. It's done! I can't wait to see you in it…" _Beep_

Abby looked over McGee's shoulder. "Let me guess: that was Simeon?"

McGee twitched. Abby had snuck up on him while he was concentrating. "Don't do that! I get enough of that from Tony and Gibbs! I would guess Simeon, yeah, since he's gay, but I wouldn't have figured Bell for the type. This other message is weird, too." He tapped the screen.

"Why? What's weird about it?" Abby leaned closer to the screen.

McGee shrugged. "The caller identified herself as 'Ma', but all of Bell's female relatives are dead. That's kind of hinky. There are a few calls the day of the fight, but they're all from the Nas'rani brothers. No recordings, because there's no room on the chip, just name and number. Then, two days after the fight, there are a couple calls from…this isn't possible…" He frowned.

"What isn't possible? You know Gibbs: impossible is a close relative of coincidence," Abby reminded him.

Tim looked perplexed. "Master Sergeant Bell called _himself_ on his cell phone, and tried to leave a message. Twice. At least, according to the log..."

"You're right," nodded Abby, "that doesn't make sense…unless…what's his answering message say?"

"Hmmm. Good one…let me see…" McGee fiddled with the computer for a moment, and suddenly a different male voice began to play: husky and tired.

"Jenna, _**TEX**_, if it's you, shut off the damn phone! They can track it. Now you run like I told you, girl! Stay on the High Road…it's important. Find my brothers; they'll help you. Give my love to Casey…love you sis…" _Beep._

Abby started to tear up. "He was dying, wasn't he?"

McGee sighed. "Possibly. This was the last way he could talk to Jenna, without anybody else knowing what he was really saying. I wish I knew what road he was talking about. It would give us some idea where she was going." He frowned. "This clears Jenna D'Arcy as the shooter, though…"

Ducky walked in. "It isn't a real highway, Timothy, it's metaphorical."

"Wow, Ducky, you're almost as quiet as Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed. "What do you mean, a metaphorical highway?"

"Yeah, there must be a thousand different roads in and out of NYC. How can you be sure the road he mentioned isn't real?" Tim pointed to the recording for emphasis.

Ducky shook his head. "I didn't say it wasn't real, Timothy; I said it was metaphorical. The High Road is life: he's telling her to stay alive. There's an old Scottish ballad about two friends returning home after a great war: one is taking the high road, and one is taking the low road…"

Abby brightened. "I know that song! The Toadsters did a remix a few years back. The guy taking the low road will get home first, but will never see his girl or their spot on the lake again. I never understood that…"

"The soldier taking the low road gets home first because he's dead, Abigail," Ducky explained. "The dead usually came home before the living, you know. They were carried, much as Master Sergeant Bell was…"

"To the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lowmond," Tim nodded. "But what about finding his brothers? Bell was an only child," he pointed out.

Gibbs walked in. "Marines, McGee. Us. The corps were his brothers. And the bonnie banks would be the Potomac."

"She's trying to reach DC? It's been over 5 days, Jethro. We could drive to San Francisco in that amount of time!" Ducky looked genuinely worried.

Gibbs scowled. "That's what stinks about the whole thing." His phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs. Uh huh, uh huh, oh _really_. Got it. Good work, DiNozzo. Get Simeon and Chileab down here; I want to talk to them myself." He paused. "Well, use your imagination; it has to be good for something besides James Bond reruns." Gibbs snapped his phone shut. DiNozzo found out what kind of car Miss D'Arcy drives and put a BOLO out on it. He got a hit on it right away, from a chop shop in upper New York State, near the Canadian border. Jenna was also seen at JFK Airport the day of the altercation; the airport has her on video at the ticket counter—with Bell." He paused. "McGee, do I not give you enough work?"

"What?" McGee twitched in a guilty fashion.

"We have a murder to solve, and you're doing _word searches_?" Gibbs scowled and pointed at the paper codex Tim had been working out.

"Oh, no, that's the alpha-numeric spellings possible for Bell's voicemail code. I was trying to figure out how he remembered his code; it's odd enough to be important. (Goes back to the puzzle, murmuring "phodoo, rhofom, shoenm, sindon, simdom, rimenn, phoenn…"

"Good luck, then, McGee." Gibbs turned to Ducky. "What brings you down here, Duck?"

"I found something else in Master Sergeant Bell, and was bringing it to Abby, since I sent Mr. Palmer out to pick up some dinner." He hands Abby a sealed package. "He had this shoved inside his ear canal. I hope it isn't too damaged, my dear."

Abby scrutinized the tiny device. "This looks like the working part of a flash drive. Bell was _really_ into the cloak and dagger!"

"He learned his stuff from the CIA. They pull stunts like this," Gibbs explained. "I just wish they wouldn't use our people to play their games. It probably had information on there about Simeon and Chileab. Call me when you crack the code, ok Abbs?"

"SIMEON!" Abby shouted. "That's it!"

"What about him?" Gibbs and McGee asked together.

Abby grabbed a highlighter and snatched the paper away from Tim. She started highlighting letters until she found:

P G M D M M

Q H N E N N

R I O F O O

S G M D M M

S H N E N N

S I O F O O

"Look: Simeon's name _is_ this phone's security code. Simeon is supposedly gay, but Master Sergeant Bell was _not_: he sent his last love message to Casey…" Abby began.

"Simeon and Jenna were married for a few days in France…" offered McGee.

"Which means Simeon Nas'rani probably isn't gay, and what else," prompted Gibbs?

"This is not Bell's cell phone!" Abby exclaimed "McGee, play that message from 'Mom' so Gibbs can hear it." McGee nodded and hit 'play'.

"That's Angela D'Arcy—Jenna's mom—I'm sure of it. Could this be Jenna's phone, McGee?" Gibbs asked, looking thoughtful.

"Running the serial numbers now, Boss…yes, it was Jenna's phone! They must have switched…" McGee theorized.

"They switched phones, pretended to have her board a plane, and then one of them drove her SUV up to Canada, where it was taken apart. Meanwhile, Jake went back to Jenna's house with **her** phone, which was on, and he died **there**: they were laying false trails…fleeing and eluding. She's trying to reach the Navy Yard…to get to us. McGee, get me that number, so I can try to call her. Abbs, get on that flash drive. Is ballistics done yet?" Gibbs turned to her expectantly.

Abby nodded: her eyes wide. "They're KTW armor-piercing bullets, possibly from a Luger or Sig Saur. I'm not exactly sure of the make. The KTW bullets are illegal in the States, though. They're unsporting, so to speak. I think we only use them for critical assassinations and combat situations. Definitely bad-ass material."

"And nothing a skeet shooter would want to use. Good work, Abbs. You too," he slapped Ducky and McGee on the back. "Let me know if you find anything else; I'll be getting ready for interrogation. With any luck, Ziva's driving back to DC; I won't have to soften the Nas'rani's up prior to questioning!" Gibbs turned sharply on his heel and left Forensics.

"Hey, Ducky?" McGee stopped Dr. Mallard as he was leaving. 

"Yes, Timothy?"

"How did you make the song connection from two words? That has to be some kind of record!" He asked, perplexed.

It was quite simple, Timothy," Ducky boasted. "Our Master Sergeant had the last name of Bell: Scottish origin. He was a child of mixed heritage, as seen by his skin tone. One of his ancestors was obviously a white slave-owner, who gave his name to this family. Scottish music is quite melodic, you know. Many people cherish it."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Ducky." Tim nodded.

"My pleasure, Timothy. I'll let you two get back to your work, now." Ducky waved and left Forensics.


	7. Chapter 7

**NCIS Squadroom.**

A harried Tony and a smiling Ziva escorted the Naz'rani brothers into the bullpen. Both men were obviously of Middle-Eastern descent and were fairly good looking, but there the similarities ended. Simeon was well-dressed but unshaven, and looked like he needed some sleep. He carried a laptop and had a cell phone clipped to his belt. Chileab looked like he had been picked up from a hospital: his clothing was rumpled, and he was conspicuously bandaged. His face was swollen and black in several places and his jaw wired shut; he favored his ribcage, and his bandaged right arm hung in a sling.

Gibbs sat at his desk, sipping coffee and staring at his computer. He looked up as DiNozzo approached and set a full satchel on his desk.

"Boss, let me introduce you to the newest names in the fashion world, Simeon and Chileab Naz'rani. They just had the thrilling experience of riding behind Ziva at the wheel…" began Tony. "Mr.'s Nas'ranis: my boss: Senior Field Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Ziva glared at her partner. "I did not run over anyth_ing_ or any_one_ this time, Tony!"

"Not for lack of trying…" Tony rolled his eyes.

Simeon stepped forward. "The ride was no trouble at all, Agent Gibbs," he said with a rolling accent. "Agent DiNozzo has obviously never caught a cab in Amman; our ride was quite comfortable. Agent David should be commended on getting us here so quickly."

Ziva smirked and went to her desk. Simeon set his laptop down on Gibbs' desk and continued. "I understand you have some information on my Jenna…that is the first piece of good news I have had in days. What can you tell me? Have you found her? Is she safe?"

Gibbs raised one eyebrow. "We're still investigating possible leads; that's why you're here. I think you may have information vital to the case." He looked alarmingly at Chileab. "DiNozzo, I said "use your imagination", but I never told you to beat anyone black and blue! What happened to this man?"

" Zjaake…" Chileab began, but his brother waved him into silence.

"Please excuse my brother, Agent Gibbs. His jaw was broken, and he has trouble speaking," Simeon interjected. "He was beaten in the same attack on my wife….he got these injuries trying to defend her. He was released from the hospital only today."

"Maee I sit dwn, plzz?" Chileab plead through his wired jaw.

"Actually, I need you to come with me, gentlemen. I have a suspect you may be able to identify." Gibbs turned to Tony. "What's in the bag, DiNozzo?"

"These are security DVDs from the Naz'rani Co. computer from the day of Jake and Jenna's disappearance, JFK Airport security pictures of them at a ticket counter, and the local police report. I haven't had a chance to look at them yet," Tony explained.

"Nice thinking, DiNozzo. Take it all down to Abby, and let me know what you find. Ziva, I need you with me," he said, standing up. "We need to go and see Master Sergeant Bell." Both Naz'ranis started, but Gibbs just smiled.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Autopsy…**

Gibbs, Simeon, Chileab, and Ziva entered Autopsy, and Ducky straightened up. He had been working on another body with Palmer's assistance.

"Ahhh, visitors," he said pleasantly. "Please finish up for me here, Mr. Palmer. This young man has another appointment, now that we're done." He turned to Gibbs. "Hello, Jethro. Come to see Master Sergeant Bell, have you?"

"Yeah, Ducky," Gibbs said, motioning to the Naz'rani brothers, "We need these gentlemen to identify him for us, if they can."

"Certainly. Allow me to wash up first…" Ducky walked over to the sink and washed his hands. "He's right over here..."

Ducky opened one of the cooler doors and pulled out Master Sergeant Bell's body. Both Naz'rani brothers reacted with hostility. Chileab glared and looked away, but Simeon's face flushed in **hate**; he growled something in Arabic and spat on the floor. Ziva's eyes opened in shock.

"Really! Such language! I would _never_ have thought that appropriate, given the setting. Don't you show respect for the dead, Mr. Naz'rani?" she chided.

"Ziva?" Gibbs prompted.

Ziva fanned herself with one hand. "He called Master Sergeant Bell…roughly translated… "you unclean son of a traitor's fornication". It is _quite_ obscene…"

"I get the idea." Gibbs nodded. Turning to Simeon, he asked pointedly: "Mr. Naz'rani, you knew this man? How?"

Simeon scowled bitterly. "I thought I did. This is Jacob Bell, he is…_was_…our head of security. He stopped an attack at one of our shows some years ago while on a personal holiday. When he was dismissed from the Marines for his injuries, we gave him a job out of gratitude. He was with us for several years, until last week…I never had reason to doubt his work until then…"

"Shmeeon…" Chileab said weakly, "eye neeed to shht dwnnnn."

"Good heavens, lad! Have a chair," Ducky exclaimed. He grabbed an office chair and pulled it over for Chileab. "Who did this to you?"

Chileab glared down at Bell's body and pointed. "Eee did. Fiiiite. Eee triid to kll mee. Ee took Zjenna." He grimaced. "Paane kllrs warring off…" he collapsed into the chair Ducky had offered.

"I might be able to help you with that, young man. Give me just a minute…" Ducky offered, digging into his medicine cabinet.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Simeon. "Do you know where his body was found?"

"Yes, behind Jenna's country house," Simeon gave the body a closer inspection. "I see you re-attached his hand as well. No matter. I made my point," he said bitterly.

Ducky turned to him, shocked. "Am I to understand _you_ hacked off this man's hand? This," he pointed to the maimed limb, "_barbaric_ act came from _you_?"

"I'm surprised, Mr. Naz'rani. Normally I interrogate murder suspects for hours before they break; you've saved me a lot of time today," Gibbs said coldly.

"I didn't kill him," Simeon snorted bitterly. "I said I cut off his hand. He was dying when I found him; someone else had shot him." He scowled down at the body. "It was the least I could do, since he could not tell me what he had done with Jenna, or why he had attacked my brother." He suddenly reached for Bell's throat. **"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?"** he screamed.

Gibbs grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him up against a locker. "He's already _dead_, Mr. Naz'rani. You can't shake anything else out of him!" He turned to Ziva. "Ziva, take Mr. Naz'rani here up to interrogation, and wait there for me. Have Tony meet you there; I'll be up in a few minutes. As for our other guest…" he turned to Ducky.

"I'm way ahead of you, Jethro," Ducky said. "Mr. Naz'rani, I want to examine your injuries. If we are to proceed with an investigation against our Master Sergeant, I need to gather as much information as I can."

"Yrr a dctor? I thot this wzz jst awtpsy?" Chileab looked puzzled.

"Mr. Naz'rani: I treat the living as well as the dead," Ducky reassured him. "As a bonus, I keep pain killers in stock. This won't be the first time I've had to patch someone up after a fight, though it looks like a job already well done." He peered around Chileab's injuries. "If you don't object, I need to measure the marks on you, as well as get pictures of your bruises. Anything you can tell me about the fight would be helpful, of course."

Simeon turned to his brother. "Chileab? Will you be allright?"

Chileab nodded. "Mmm ok." He paused and motioned to Bell's body. "Eee cn't hrt mee nww."

"That's settled, then," said Gibbs. "Ziva, you take Simeon, and Ducky, you take care of Chileab. Neither of them leaves the building without my say-so. Understood?"

"Absolutely," Ziva said as she took Simeon by the elbow. "This way: Mr. Naz'rani."

"Understood, Jethro," Ducky said, nodding. He turned to Chileab again. "Now, young man, if you'll let me wheel you over here, I can start to take a look. **Mr. Palmer**," he called across the room, "**would you please bring me the digital camera?"**

"Right away, doctor," Jimmy nodded.

Gibbs turned to Ziva as they reached the elevator. "Ziva, I'll be up in a few minutes. I have to make a stop first."

"Understood, Gibbs." She turned to Simeon. "This way, please."


	8. Chapter 8

**Abby's lab.**

Abby labored on the Naz'rani company DVD, while DiNozzo scanned the airport data and McGee puzzled over some of the cell phone records.

"Rats! I need a bigger screen. The resolution on this one _**sucked**_." She hit the keyboard furiously. "C'mon, Baby, clear this up for Mama…"

"Fast forward, fast forward, fast forward," DiNozzo muttered. "Bingo, I found them! Oh, _shit_…" he breathed.

"Do that in the men's room, Tony," Abby snarked as she sucked on a CafPow.

Tony scowled. "C'mere, Abbs, and tell me what you see. I need another set of eyes here."

Abby left her computer to join Tony. "What? Who am I looking for? I don't know what either of them looks like," she protested.

"You can't miss him," Tony said grimly. "Master Sergeant Bell is the enormous black escort hauling this young woman up to a ticket counter. See the scarf she's wearing on her head? It looks like the one in evidence." He paused. "Look at his face and the hold he has on her arm…"

"It's like he's leading her around, and not gently, either." Abby grew alarmed. "I thought he was supposed to be a _good_ guy, why is he pulling her around like this? Oh my god…look at her _**face**_." Abby choked up, and she closed one hand into a fist.

Tony's face froze angrily. "Sonofa_**bitch**_," he swore, "those were _**fresh marks!**_ Look how unsteady she was on her feet: she clung to the counter for support. Probably had damage to her ribs and abdominal cavity, but that's only a guess. Look!" He pointed to the screen. "She looked straight at the camera for about thirty seconds! Can you help me blow this up, Abbs?"

"Yeah: move," she commanded. Abby glanced at the screen while she worked. "She held _**amazingly**_ still…it's almost like she…"

"Wanted somebody to see her, yeah. Good girl," Tony finished for her. "I need a printout of this for Gibbs, Abby."

"Duh." Abby gave Tony a reproving look, and then shuddered. "How could somebody _do_ this to her? Is _that_ normal high society behavior, Tony?"

"It depends on the society," He said grimly. "According to some of my Dad's friends, this was the order of the day. High society just usually means better disguises for the bruises." He stared at the picture darkly. "We gotta find this kid; she needs a doctor. You find anything, Abbs?"

Abby shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. The fight took place down the hallway from the only camera that captured any action, so I only got little pieces of it." She rebooted the CD. "See? There're just legs back and forth, until _bam, _somebody went_ flying_ back against this wall. Then _more_ legs until the guys come wrassling down the hallway. There's some back and forth action…kind of mixed up, they kept spinning around, until here…you ever watch professional 'wrestling'? You know, when the guy on the ropes grabs out a chair and _whammo_? There was a _smackdown_ on one guy. Then it _really_ got ugly. I don't think this guy knew who hit him with the chair; he just grabbed it and tossed it back. If that was Bell…he went down, though and the other guy…"

"Chileab, probably," Tony prompted. "He already admitted fighting Bell."

"Ok, Chileab then…he _really_ pounded on him. When Bell didn't get up for, like thirty seconds, Chileab crawled into the cubicle, probably after Jenna." She pointed at the screen. "There's one of her feet lying just outside the door, and she didn't move. Bell revived himself, and jumped back up. Next we see more flying feet and…yep…Chileab fell down and didn't move. Now watch," she toggled the screen. "The last thing we see is our Master Sergeant carrying an unconscious woman from the building. She was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes!"

"That was a Fireman's Carry, Abby," Tony informed her. "They're standard in rescue operations. Can you tell the legs apart? If we figured out who was in the fight and when, maybe we could figure out how it started. Right now we only have Chileab's side of the story." He glowered at the screen. "I really can't stand that guy, for some reason."

Abby smirked. "Legs aren't my thing, Tony. That's _your_ department." She nodded at the taller agent jokingly, but he only snorted.

"Ha ha. I haven't forgotten what you did to my OSU calendar, gothie: I still owe you. Are you sure about the legs, though? I mean, the Master Sergeant was in _much_ better shape than Chileab Naz'rani; his legs would have been thicker, maybe, or his feet a different size," he pointed out.

Abby sighed in frustration. "It isn't like I'm not _trying_, Tony. The camera was just at the wrong angle to compare things like leg and shoe size. Plus, both men were wearing the same style of pants: they're the same color and cut. If they'd been running around in shorts, I could help you."

"That would be too easy," Tony groaned. "I just don't get it. From the Naz'rani brother's statements and these tapes, it looks like the Black Knight went all dark-side against his lady fair. But from the cell phone recordings…maybe not. We need _more_ than this. Good guys don't just 'go bad' like that." He rubbed his temple in a pained fashion.

McGee looked up. "Tony, did _you_ just use a medieval reference? What happened, you run out of Bond movies to spout off with?"

Tony continued to monitor the screen, scowling, while he answered McGee. "Nah, the Black Knight is Batman, Probie. "Black Knight" was also Jenna's nickname for Master Sergeant Bell. Ziva and I got that from company staff. He called her "Tex"…_so_ unoriginal," he mused.

McGee looked thoughtful. "Do you think Jenna knew the Master Sergeant was undercover? It would explain the Batman reference. Batman was a detective, after all," he said thoughtfully.

"How do _you_ know about Batman, McStarWars?" Tony looked at his junior partner quizzically.

"From my **DC** Comic Book Collection, **D**-**Nozzo**," Tim jibed back. "Batman was the reason I wanted to go into law enforcement. He used a lot of high-tech gadgets instead of super-powers all the time!"

"Hmmmmm, I'm gonna guess 'no'." Tony crossed his arms and scratched his chin. "He was investigating links to terrorism, so _everybody_ was a suspect, no matter how well liked. Even if he thought that he could trust Jenna, it would have been stupid of Bell to confide his double agency to her. It would endanger both of them," he explained.

"How so, Tony?" Abby asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Simple. Jenna couldn't be made to tell anything she didn't know. If there was a terrorist in the crew, they might have suspected something if Jenna started acting differently. She would have become an instant target." Tony explained.

McGee stared at the screen thoughtfully. "Huh. Maybe she did. We can't tell from the tape who hit whom first."

"Whom?" Tony snorted. "Who says 'whom' anymore, McGrammar?"

"Only people who finished college English, Tony," Tim said loftily. He returned to his computer file.

DiNozzo moved to stand behind McGee. "What'cha got there, Elflord? Texting? I-Ming? Cosmic string?"

"None of the above, Joker." Tim snorted. "These photos were stored on Jenna's phone. She had the electronic equivalent of a multi-tool for a phone: phone, internet access, camera, texting, etc. We might have a picture of whoever killed Master Sergeant Bell here; he could have snapped a picture of who was shooting at him." He fiddled with the keyboard again. "Bingo…picture storage!" He scrolled through the most recent entries. "This…this could be Miss D'Arcy's backyard. Abby, you're a _genius_."

Abby bowed, and Tony clapped Tim on the back.

"Nice work, McAlfred." DiNozzo's phone rang. He twitched, startled, and answered it.

"Yeah, Ziva?" He paused. "Well, who else would it be? What's up?" He paused again. "Yeah, I'll be right up." Tony snapped his phone shut and turned to Abby. "I gotta join Gibbs and Ziva in interrogation. How soon can you have pictures for me?"

"I'll run them up in a few minutes. It won't take long," she assured him.

"Thanks, Abbs," Tony said, giving her neck a squeeze, and left.

McGee returned to the picture file, scrolling through the stored photos and muttering to himself. The printer started running. Abby was working on the flash drive when Gibbs walked in.

"Find anything yet?" He asked them both.

"Yeah, Gibbs," Abby and Tim said at the same time. They hesitated, not wanting to interrupt each other, and the silence grew awkward.

"Well, don't trip over yourselves trying to tell me," Gibbs snapped. "What did you get?"

McGee reached over to the printer, which was pumping out the last picture from the cell phone. The picture of Jenna's damaged face lay on top.

"These, boss." He handed the pile of photographs to Gibbs, and pointed to the one on top. "This is a picture of Jenna at JFK, sometime before she and Master Sergeant Bell split up."

"Damn!" Gibbs clenched the picture, and his mouth hardened. He _hated_ men who beat up women. Seeing evidence of a fresh assault _really_ pissed him off!

McGee continued. "And _these_ were from the cell phone that Master Sergeant Bell had on him when he died. I think he took a picture of the person or persons coming after him. The resolution is lousy, but I might be able to clear it up. I'm cross-checking these against the other 300 or so photos in the picture log, too, in case they might be somebody else from the Naz'rani company."

"Good thinking, McGee," Gibbs nodded. "Abby, did you get anything out of that memory-storage-chip-thing Ducky found in the Master Sergeant's ear?"

Abby looked amused. "It's called a 'flashdrive', Gibbs. Say it with me…_flash_…_drive_…it isn't hard…" she saw the annoyed look on Gibbs' face and decided to drop it. "Uh, no. It's encrypted. I ran it through Corporal Codebreaker, but this one might be tougher than usual," she admitted.

"Since when is anything easy around here," Gibbs muttered. He turned to Abby expectantly. "What's so tough about this one?"

Abby actually looked worried. "It's a musical lock, Gibbs. In order to get the file to open, this flash-drive needs to be jointly running with a music program, say, from an I-pod. Only the correct song will open the file. Nothing else will work."

"So, plug in an I-pod and start playing music," Gibbs shrugged. "How long can it take?" He gave Abby an encouraging squeeze and left.

Abby watched Gibbs leave, then went over and punched McGee in the arm. "That's for leaving me hanging with Gibbs! You could at least have told him how many songs an I-pod can hold!"

"OW! What, and get slapped upside the head? No, thanks!" Tim shook his head. "Besides, you told him _that_ two years ago when you bought him one. Let's approach this with a little logic instead."

"What do you mean? We don't even know what kind of music Bell liked. Going through an online music catalogue will take _years_, and you know Gibbs; he wants answers _today_!" she protested.

Tim looked thoughtful for a moment. "We can shorten the list," he offered hopefully. "Ducky said that Bell's heritage was part Scottish, because of his name and the song he mentioned to Jenna. He told her to stay on the "High Road", and that it was important. Let's narrow the music field to Celtic musicians; starting with whatever that song was Ducky was talking about…"

"It was 'Loch Lomond'," Abby reminded him. "I'll look it up…there can't be _that_ many variations…it's a really old ballad…" She started typing, and stopped, deflating. "Oh, _crap_."

McGee grimaced in anticipation. "How bad is it, Abby? I can take it…"

"Oh, god. There're over 2,500 variations on this site _alone_." Abby said disparagingly. "I say we start with the most recent makes, and work our way backwards."

McGee groaned. "Works for me."


	9. Chapter 9

**Interrogation observation room**.

Tony and Ziva spoke in low tones as they waited for Gibbs. On the other side of the glass Simeon Naz'rani sat with his laptop plugged in, staring at his computer screen.

"So, if he already confessed to killing Bell, why are we here?" Dinozzo's face remained impassive, but stern. He was in full 'cop mode', and unwilling to deal with any crap.

"He only confessed to chopping off Bell's hand in an act of rage," Ziva informed him. "He claimed that Bell was already dying by the time he reached him. He didn't admit killing him." Ziva said quietly.

"Not yet he hasn't," Tony muttered. "Here comes the boss…"

Gibbs walked into the observation room. "Ziva, I want you in with me in case I need a translator. I expect this will be short."

"Sure, Gibbs," she shrugged.

The two of them entered the interrogation room; Gibbs sat at the table opposite Simeon, while Ziva took a chair in the corner. Gibbs started laying down crime scene photos.

"I need you to tell me what happened, Simeon, from the day Jenna disappeared to when you killed Master Sergeant Bell and cut off his hand," he began.

Simeon glowered. "I already told you: I did _not_ kill that traitorous dog, I cut off his hand after he was already dead. I would have been _glad_ to kill him, but somebody else beat me to it. I believe all you have on me is mutilation of a corpse."

"Don't forget obstruction of justice, since you didn't call the police when you found him. I still want to know what, when, and why." Gibbs said quietly.

"I _told _you that: he attacked my wife and brother!" Simeon insisted, raising his voice. "Chileab spent days in the hospital, and Jenna? I have not seen her since that morning. She may be dead, for all I know. _**And he is to blame**_," Simeon growled.

"She is **not** your wife, Mr. Naz'rani. According to our investigation your 'marriage' was annulled days after you took your vows," Ziva pointed out.

"**Incorrect**," Simeon snapped. "Our vows were genuine; the _**chapel**_ was fraudulent. The papers reporting our marriage thought it would be more…interesting? Scandalous? To report an annulment instead of merely fraud."

"It could hardly be a real marriage, since the groom in question is homosexual," Gibbs said sternly. "What else could it be but a **hoax**: a publicity stunt, to gain attention to your new line? Lots of people believe any press is good press, Mr. Naz'rani." He tapped the pictures of Bell's bloody body. "Did my Master Sergeant object to you _using_ a young woman he had risked his life to protect? Argue with your brother, perhaps, about ruining her reputation?" Gibbs lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Middle Eastern men don't have the best record with women, Simeon. What is she, really, since she isn't your wife? A tool? Someone to use and discard? Or were you really just curious about being with a woman…just once?"

Simeon smiled bitterly. "I see you believed the report from my childhood, Agent Gibbs. Let me enlighten you." He leaned forward and gave Gibbs an intense look. "I am not _now_, nor have I _ever_ been, homosexual." He look Gibbs solidly in the eyes. "_**EVER**_."

Gibbs sat back and looked surprised. He glanced from Simeon to Ziva and back to Simeon. "Then why did your father…"

"Why did my _father_ disown me for homosexuality, if I am not gay? Simple," he sat back and frowned bitterly, "power."

"Explain," prompted Gibbs.

"My father was a Jordanian businessman, and _very_ wealthy," Simeon began. "He obtained his money through very lucrative land dealings: some clean, and some not so clean. Oil was found on some of these parcels, which made him even _wealthier_. He had holdings in Jordan, Syria, and even Saudi Arabia."

"I fail to see the connection," Gibbs said dryly.

"For my father, there was never enough. Not enough money, not enough land, not enough women, not enough power," Simeon continued bitterly. "He always wanted more, and would do anything to get it."

"That sounds familiar," mused Ziva.

"And?" prompted Gibbs.

"Including arranging marriages for his children, so _more_ land and power could flow into the family," explained Simeon. "We do not date in Jordan as you do in the West, Agent Gibbs; marriages are often brokered by the families involved. My father arranged a _very_ prosperous match for me, with a young lady whose father held immense power in the government. I did not want to marry this young woman, and this…attitude…displeased my father," Simeon coughed at the memory.

"So he declared you homosexual?" Gibbs looked perplexed.

"No," Simeon admitted. "I was only 14 at the time, so he was content to beat me black and blue. The wedding was called off, due to injuries I sustained in a 'car accident'. Our mother tried to talk some sense into him: to give me time to grow up a little. He eventually agreed with her, but only after breaking her arm. Chileab, Nemini and I were forced to _watch_," he said bitterly, "so we would _know_ the consequences of crossing our father."

Ziva was aghast. "What of your priest? Could not your _church_ have intervened?"

Simeon shrugged. "They can do very little about what they do not know. Plus, my father was not _really_ a member of the Orthodox Church. The faith is my mother's. Father only attended when it was financially….**opportunistic** to do so. His lip service to my mother's faith bound her to him for **life**, and gave him a **whitewashed** reason to beat his wife and children." He clenched fists at the memory. "Mother dared not leave the monster that sired us, for fear of being excommunicated as a **sinner**," he finished bitterly.

"It seems the world is full of abusive bastards. I've heard about Jenna's biological father," Gibbs said dryly.

"As have I," Simeon nodded. "It is something we have in common, something we bonded over. At least he only abandoned her; she was never subjected to the brutality we grew up with every day…"

"So your being disowned for homosexuality…" Gibbs prompted, trying to put Simeon back on track.

"It was my father's way of exercising his power: obey or starve to death. Homosexuals are not **tolerated** in my country, Agent Gibbs; not like they are here. When I refused a second match, he had his lawyers draw up the necessary papers and published them. I was forced to flee Jordan, leave behind my family and fortune, and make my own way in the world. I didn't mind leaving the money, but leaving my brother and sister and mother with that monster was…intolerable." Simeon stared at the table without really seeing it.

"Having a public reputation of being homosexual doesn't _hurt_ when your job is Western fashion design," Gibbs guessed.

"That's correct," Simeon nodded. "Few people actually know I am straight! It's almost comic.." he mused.

"So the marriage in Paris…It was real?" Ziva asked curiously.

Simeon smiled at the memory. "It was _very_ real, just not on paper." He paused, then looked at Gibbs questioningly. "Have you ever been to Paris, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded. "Work has taken me there few times," he admitted.

"I proposed to Jenna at the top of the Eiffel Tower, with fireworks going off overhead. We shared our first kiss there…and married at a nearby chapel soon after." Simeon's face grew soft with the memory. "We had…friends…stand up with us; Jake was one of them," he admitted with some bitterness. "We didn't find out about the legal problem until several days later. The papers blew it up into a hoax and an annulment. They won't make the same mistake when I marry her again. I have already completed the dress…" He turned the computer around, and Ziva leaned forward in admiration.

"It is…_beautiful_." She was obviously impressed. "Did she like it?"

Simeon smiled. "Yes, Jenna loved it. She tried it on for me the day she disappeared," his voice cracked, and he swallowed. "I have to find her…" he choked.

"When?" asked Gibbs

"What?" said Simeon: confused.

"_When_ did she try on the dress?" Gibbs pressed. "At what time?"

"It was late that morning," Simeon remembered, scowling. "I dismissed most of the staff for an extended lunch party. I told them they had earned it after the work they had done in Paris. I really just wanted some privacy, so Jenna and I could be alone. She came up to my office, and I fitted the dress on her…she was so lovely in it…" he toggled his computer file. "Look, here is a picture of her in it."

"And when she changed out of the dress and went back downstairs…is that when the fight happened?" Gibbs pressed.

Simeon glared at Gibbs as if he was thick-headed. "Nooo, Agent Gibbs." His face changed to exasperation. "Have you _ever_ been married?"

"Once or twice," Gibbs shrugged.

"Oh, a serial monogamist," Simeon said patronizingly. "So, when one of _your_ wives removed her wedding gown in front of you, what happened _next_? Or are customs in America that different from Jordan?"

Gibbs took the hint and sat back. "Well, no, I expect not."

"Do I have to go into detail," Simeon asked? "Because I would rather keep such things private," he insisted.

"No, thank you!" Gibbs and Ziva said together.

"I get the idea," Gibbs nodded. "You used your quiet office for some honeymoon exercises."

"Yes," Simeon admitted, "and I took a nap afterwards. My office is soundproof, so I didn't hear the fight starting one floor down. If I had, maybe things would have turned out differently," he finished bitterly. "I was awakened by my phone ringing, when the rest of the staff came back from lunch, and found the scene. Jenna was…gone…and so was Jake. We called an ambulance for Chileab, he was unconscious…Some of the staff scattered to their various homes, hoping to find them. I got a phone call from our private jet line at JFK, though. She had been seen by a teller at the ticket counter, who knew her."

Gibbs sat up. "You've seen the security tape from JFK," he said accusingly.

"Yes," Simeon admitted. "_This_ picture, in her wedding gown, is the last time I saw Jenna alive and in person. _This_ picture," he toggled the computer and brought up a copy of Jenna's battered face at the JFK counter, "is the last photo I have of her _alive_, being hauled around by someone who _beat her." _He stood up, roaring. "_**And you want to know why I mutilated a corpse? **__**She's my WIFE!"**_ He slammed a hand down on the pictures of Bell's mutilated body for emphasis.

Gibbs and Ziva both jumped to their feet. Simeon, enraged, hands balled into fists, looked ready to punch Gibbs.

"Sit _down_, Mr. Naz'rani. **SIT DOWN**," barked the ex-Marine. Gibbs met the furious man's gaze and stared him down.

There was a knock at the door, and Abby poked her head inside. Simeon sat down again, breathing hard and holding his head in his hands.

"Gibbs? You're gonna need to see these," she said, handing him the pictures she had printed off from Jenna's destroyed cell phone.

"Thank you, Abby," Gibbs nodded. He glanced over the pictures and turned back to Simeon, who was still breathing hard. "Mr. Naz'rani, can you identify these people? These pictures were taken by Master Sergeant Bell, just before he was killed."

Simeon furrowed his brow and peered at the pictures suspiciously. "Maybe…I think so. This looks vaguely like Tel Armaugh, he is one of my designers, and this looks like Barron Geld, he is one of our drivers. What does this have to do with Jenna? If **they** killed your Master Sergeant, I should probably give them a bonus…" he mused bitterly.

"Where are they now?" Gibbs pressed, tapping the photos.

"Tel took some personal time after the incident; he said the violence and the mess were 'upsetting', and he couldn't work in the office. Mr. Geld only comes in when we call him. I think Chileab has his number. Chileab has final say on personnel and service issues. It frees me up for design." He looked back at the computer picture of Jenna's battered face. "I have to find her, Agent Gibbs, I have to…" he choked, unable to finish.

"That's the wrong picture, Simeon," Gibbs said gently. Reaching over Simeon's hands, he toggled the computer, bringing up the picture of Jenna in her wedding dress. "_**This**_ is the one you should look at. Anything else is torture." He paused, thinking. "Do you have a hotel room here in town?"

"No," Simeon said heavily. "We came down with your officers. I don't even have a car…"

"Wait here," Gibbs told him. Gibbs and Ziva stepped out of interrogation, and entered the observation room. "DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Take Mr. Naz'rani upstairs, help him call a cab and make some hotel arrangements. Then, if Ducky is done with his brother, I want to see him next. I think we have the responsible person downstairs, and it _isn't_ the dead guy."

"You think it's his brother," Tony said coldly. "Something about that guy just didn't sit right with me…"

"It would fit the profile," Ziva said thoughtfully. "Master Sergeant Bell was raised by his grandmother; she taught him to _respect_ women. Chileab was raised by an abuser; he saw violence like this all the time. He would have seen any attitude on Jenna's part as a lack of respect, perhaps needing a corrective slap." She **slapped** her hands together, loudly, for emphasis.

"And by all accounts, he disapproved of his brother's relationship with Jenna," Tony said thoughtfully. He paused. "If Chileab and Jenna got into some sort of argument at the office, and Chileab struck her, and Bell _**saw**_ it…"

"Oh, yeah. Bell would kick his ass!" Gibbs finished for him. "I would too!"

"That makes sense," Ziva said, nodding.

"I still feel like I'm missing something here," Gibbs said doubtfully, "and I don't like it."

The observation room phone rang, and Tony picked it up.

"Interrogation observation. Ducky? What's the…? Slow down…he _**WHAT**_? Did you alert the front gate? Ok, I'm on it, I'll tell him. Take care of Palmer." He hung up, looking angry.

"_NOW what?" _Gibbs asked, frustrated.

"Chileab Naz'rani attacked Palmer in the elevator; they were supposedly going up to the car to get his computer." Tony informed them grimly. "It seems he _isn't_ as hurt as he wanted us to believe. He used the cast on Palmer's _head_. Jimmy got in a few good shots, but Chileab is a professional. He was more interested in getting away than in killing Palmer, though, so Ducky believe's he'll be alright."

"Damn," Gibbs swore. "DiNozzo, put out a BOLO on our car, maybe we can get him before he leaves the Yard."

"On it, Boss," Tony elbowed into the desk computer in the room, the tech scrambling to get out of his way.

"I will break the news to Simeon," Ziva volunteered. "If his brother isn't an international terrorist, he's certainly a domestic one like his father. He needs to know. If there are files that Chileab has been hiding from the investigation, Simeon will be most likely to find them for us."

Gibbs nodded grimly. "Get to it, you two."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**NCIS Squadroom…**

Tony slammed down his phone in frustration. "That was the front gate; Chileab got through before our alarms went off. **Damn**, just once can we not let a bad guy get away?"

Ziva hung up her phone as well and started typing up a BOLO. "We'll get him, Tony," she said grimly. "He does not have any assets here in DC, remember? He can't go very far, and if he tries to go to his place in New York, NYPD will pick him up." She paused, scowling. "Of course, if he _is_ a terrorist or a smuggler, he might have an 'A' in a hole we don't know about."

Tony winced. "It's 'Ace', Ziva. He might have an _Ace_ in the hole; it's a poker expression, means he cheats at cards, and therefore life." He sighed and rubbed his face. "God, it's been a long day. Where's the boss?"

Ziva motioned to the upper balcony with her head. "In Vance's office, with Simeon and some CIA agent. I wish just once they could be useful…"

"Me too. It would be nice to have an ace in the hole," Tony said grimly. He paused, then continued thinking out loud. "Bell told D'Arcy to keep running. _Chileab_ was the assailant, and he's using his network to try and find Jenna, now that Bell is dead." He leaned over his desk. "If he knew she was already dead, he wouldn't have bothered to escape," he pointed out. "He would have just gone along with the whole missing person angle and stayed put."

Ziva looked at her partner calculatingly. "But since he _did_, we can assume she is still alive, and that _he_ doesn't know where she is!"

"So she's alive, for now, and still running," Tony mused.

Ziva stood up and looked at the pictures on the plasma. "Do you think these two men are pursuing her?" She glanced at her partner for confirmation.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I do. They're part of a small group of employees that have taken 'time off' since the incident at Nas'rani HQ almost a week ago." His face brightened. "She was warned to keep her cell phone off, but they will have to answer to their boss once in a while…"

"So we can trace their cell phones," Ziva finished excitedly. She returned to her computer. "Simeon gave us the cell phone numbers of all employees…tracing Tel and Barron…**Yes**!"

"Put that up on the big screen, will you?" DiNozzo stood and examined the map that suddenly appeared on the plasma. "That looks like north-eastern West Virginia. Where's McGee? We really need him to help with this."

"He is helping Abby. Do not be such a techno-baby, Tony. We can handle this," Ziva scolded.

"Any calls into or out of their phones, Ziva?" Tony continued to watch the flickering dots on the map, and a smaller window of calls opened up.

Yes," said Ziva, "but they were sporadic. There must be a lack of coverage in the area. I can trace their GPS co-ordinates, but that is all. Their phones are not very useful right now. Do you think the terrain is an issue?"

"Possibly. I don't know if that's good or bad, but we should tell the boss, and soon. We have to get up there, Ziva. If these guys are chasing D'Arcy…" He reached for the his cell phone and the gun in his desk.

Ziva nodded. "It will be faster if I drive again. I will get the sedan." She grabbed her sidearm and walked away.

As Ziva headed for the elevator, Tony's desk phone rang. He crossed back to his desk and picked it up.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said, clipping his gun on his belt.

The woman on the phone had a Texan accent. "Is this NCIS? I need help…Someone is trying to kill me…"

DiNozzo dropped into his chair in shock, and waved for Ziva to wait. **"**_**JENNA D'ARCY?"**_

"Yeas…" said the frightened woman.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Director Vance's office…**

Gibbs sat with a stunned Simeon Naz'rani in the Director's office. He had just finished updating both his boss and Mr. Nas'rani about recent events and his team's speculations about Chileab, as well as the younger Naz'rani brother's escape. Simeon shook his head.

"I…I don't understand. How could he do this? _Why_?" He sat weakly back in his chair and put his head in his hands. "All the time I blamed Jake…and he knew…Chileab…he _knew_…" He shuddered as the memories of the past few days washed over him, and then retched. "My wife's brother…I thought…and I cut…"

"Mr. Naz'rani, I need you to **focus** right now," Director Vance said grimly. "Your brother may be a terrorist. He may have killed a US Marine. He _has_ assaulted a member of my staff and _is_ on the run. Do you have any idea where he might go from here?"

Simeon shook his head. "No…we have nothing here in the area…Why? I thought we told each

other everything. Why would he keep this from me?"

Director Vance's intercom buzzed. "Yes, Cynthia?"

"Director, there's a CIA agent here to see you. He says he has information about the Naz'rani case," Cynthia informed him.

Vance raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, who shrugged. "Send him in," Vance rumbled.

The door opened, and a young white man with cold hazel eyes walked into the room. Simeon started when he saw him.

"Jeremy? What are you…" he began, but Gibbs cut him off.

"You know this man, Mr. Nas'rani?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"I know all of my employees, Agent Gibbs…or I thought I did. I know him as Jeremy Turner; he worked in our Security department with Jacob Bell," the dazed man answered. He looked up at the newcomer. "You're CIA? Is that even your name?"

"Forgive me if I don't answer that," the newcomer said. "For now, you can just call me Agent Pescas."

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**NCIS Squadroom…**

Tony stood over his desk, on the phone with Jenna D'Arcy; Ziva ran back from the elevator.

"Jenna? This is Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS. Where are you?"

"I don't know where I am," she admitted. She sounded out of breath. "Can you trace this? I'm in a phone booth at a gas station…I can't stay on long; they'll find me again…they keep finding me…" she rambled, panicked.

"We're tracing you now," Tony told her and motioned to Ziva, who ran around her desk and began tracing Tony's phone. "What do you see? Tell me anything: the name of the gas station, or the highway you're on…anything that will help us find you."

Ziva grabbed another phone, and called the Director's office.

"Director? We have Jenna D'Arcy on line 4 at DiNozzo's station. Yes, Tony is talking to her now; she says she is being pursued…"

"It's a Mom and Pop station; I don't know about the highway…I'm sorry," D'Arcy sobbed. "I'm so _tired, _and it hurts so _bad_. I have to move so often…they keep _finding_ me. I don't know how…I thought I was being careful. I've changed my clothes and my cars…I kept the phone off…I avoided cameras…didn't use my cards…and _they keep finding me_. I've been trying to call you, but I couldn't get through…"

"That's ok, just stay with me now," Tony commanded her. He looked across the bullpen. "Ziva! Anything yet?"

"Working," Ziva growled. "Yes! I have her! She is just east of a town called Philippi, in West Virginia, along Highway 250. It is almost due west of here…about 300 miles."

"Jenna, we have your position," Tony said crisply. "We'll come and get you. I want you to drive west again. Go to Philippi—it's the closest town—and go to the police station. Can you do that?"

Gibbs, Vance, Simeon Naz'rani, and Agent Pescas came running down the stairs. A map of the area between Philippi, West Virginia and Washington, DC showed on the big screen. Simeon ran to DiNozzo's desk, shouting and grabbing for the phone.

"Jenna? **Jenna**! Let me talk to her…**Jenna**!" Tony and Simeon wrestled over the phone for a moment before Tony pulled it away.

"**Hey, get him off me!** I'm working here!" Turning back to the phone, "Jenna, are you still there? **Can you head west**? Talk to me!"

Jenna started to cry. "Simeon? Simeon, I'm sorry…I never meant for this to happen…"

Gibbs and Vance grabbed Simeon and pulled him away from Tony's desk.

"**Mr. Naz'rani**," Vance growled, "you need to calm down, and let my agents do their jobs. You have to stay out of the way!"

"Jenna, FOCUS. CAN YOU GO WEST?" Tony demanded.

"No," Jenna said in a voice that shook. "No, I can't, they're back there…There are two cars chasing me; one is behind me now. I tried to call days ago, but the receptionist hung up on me…" her voice was almost obscured by wind.

"Ok," said Tony. "Then you have to go…" he looked at the map, "east and south. We'll intercept you." His face tightened angrily. "Who hung up on you?"

"A switchboard operator did; he thought I was joking.,,Oh, God, no, NO…they're here…I have to run again..." she dropped the phone, and in the background Tony heard the sound of an engine revving.

"NO…Jenna…JENNA…**DAMN**!" Tony slammed the phone down and looked around the bullpen. "She's rabbitting again. She said 'they' found her, and that they_ keep_ finding her. They're tracking her somehow. Is there any way we can get to her?"

"I can get the car," Ziva offered, "but it is nearly a 5 hour drive. Our prospects of finding her alive do not look good," she admitted.

"Then I suggest _we_ do not drive," Agent Pescas volunteered. He pulled out a cell phone. "This is Silverfish; I need to get into a Huey. I have a witness being pursued by hostiles." He paused, and they heard chatter from the other end. "Yes, that will do." He paused again. "No, I had better take this myself. Thanks. We'll be there in 15 minutes." He closed his phone. "That's settled, then. Who's coming with me?" He looked around the bullpen.

"DiNozzo, David, this is CIA Agent Pescas."Gibbs made the introductions. "I want you to arm up and head out with…'Silverfish'?" Gibbs gave him a weird look, shaking his head. "Go get our witness."

Pescas held up his hands. "Don't look at me, I didn't make it up! That was Bell's idea. It's just a handle."

Gibbs shook his head. "Ok, you guys are with Agent Pescas. I'll co-ordinate with you from MTAC…"

Vance cut him off. "Belay that, Gibbs," he said sternly.

"What?" Gibbs said, surprised.

"You, DiNozzo, and David take the helicopter ride," Vance commanded. "McGee and I'll co-ordinate with you and local LEO's from MTAC. Take whatever firepower you need. When you get close to her position, I'll arrange a car. Put DiNozzo and David in it; we need an intercept on the ground. DiNozzo, I assume you can shoot off more than your mouth while driving?"

DiNozzo looked incredulous. "Ahhh, yeah," he said as he grabbed his badge. "Director Vance? Miss D'Arcy said she tried to call days ago, but was cut off by a switchboard operator."

"Damn! If she dies I'll have his ass…" the Director fumed.

"Leon? What are you doing?" Gibbs said quietly. "This is _my team_!"

"Damn straight," Vance nodded, "and you're going with them. I want a sharpshooter in that chopper, and you're it. Get what you need from the armory, and get moving," he commanded coolly. Nothing happened, and he looked around at the stunned group. "**MOVE** people!" Gibbs, Tony and Ziva looked at each other, shrugged, grabbed their gear and ran for the elevator. Vance motioned to an agent at another desk. "You: Agent Salinas."

"Yes, Director?" The young man stood and walked over.

Director Vance took a shaken Simeon Naz'rani by the elbow. "Take Mr. Naz'rani here down to a holding cell. I don't want him getting in the way." He picked up a desk phone and punched a speed dial button. "Agent McGee? Director Vance. I need you in MTAC on the double."

"Yes, Director," Agent Salinas nodded. "This way, Mr. Naz'rani." He led the shaken fashion designer off by the arm.

**Inside the elevator… **

"Excuse me, Agent Pescas," Ziva said, zipping up her flack jacket, "but is not a silverfish an insect similar to a cockroach?"

Pescas snorted. "Yeah, yeah it is. When Bell took the assignment, one of his deals was that he got to assign all the codenames. I think 'Silverfish' was a joke. I originally thought it meant 'minnow', since he was soooo much bigger than me…" he rolled his eyes.

"That's our boy," said Gibbs with a smirk.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: Jenna D'Arcy is from Texas. What appear to be misspellings in her dialogue is my attempt to represent her native accent.**

**MTAC.**

Vance stared at a fuzzy satellite picture of an old gas station as McGee entered. As they watched, a person with long brown hair left a phone booth, ran to a sports car behind the building, and sped east. Meanwhile, a black Towncar pulled into the front of the station and two men climbed out of it. One started pumping gas, while the other walked into the station.

"You wanted to see me, Director?" McGee murmured to the Director.

"Yes." Vance motioned to the screen. "You see our little vignette? I'm certain the girl getting into the muscle car is Jenna D'Arcy. This footage was shot a few minutes ago as she was on the phone with Agent DiNozzo; she called our office requesting help. Apparently the men in the Towncar are chasing her; she abandoned the phone and took off after they arrived. I sent the rest of the team out by chopper to extract her."

McGee sat down next to Vance. "What can I do, Director?"

"I thought you could start by turning on Jenna's cell phone and calling her back," Vance said dryly. "I understand you _can_ do that?" he asked pointedly.

"It might be possible, depending on what she's carrying. Trouble is, sir," McGee frowned, "she doesn't have her own cell phone. It was Master Sergeant Bell's, and I don't have all the specs on that unit." Vance glared at him, and bit down on his toothpick. "But…that doesn't mean I can't _try_…"

"Patch me through as fast as you can, Agent McGee. I want to talk to her." He motioned to the tech agent that McGee unseated, and the man walked over. "Find me all of the male switchboard operators that worked in the past week. Apparently this woman called our office days ago, only to be cut off. I want them up here five minutes ago," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," the agent said, and he left.

McGee typed furiously. "We're in luck, Director. The phone is on and I'm dialing now. Do you want her on speaker?"

"Yes." Vance continued to watch the satellite display as the phone rang. "Hmmm. It seems Miss D'Arcy ran into a Good Samaritan at the gas station. He checked the Towncar's oil, and I think he let some of the air out of those tires. We have some good folks in the Heartland."

"Glad to know it, sir," Tim acknowledged.

"Hello?" Jenna's voice sounded stressed. "Who is this?"

"Miss Jenna D'Arcy? This is NCIS Director Leon Vance. I have an extraction team heading for you now. Are you still traveling east?"

"Yes. But the cah behind me…"

"Is held up at the gas station. The attendant is deliberately stalling them. I don't think they noticed you leaving, either, which gives you an edge. How fast are you going?" Vance kept his voice even, trying to give the frightened girl some sense of stability.

"About 75," she admitted, "Ahm tryin' ta put as much distance between us as possible."

"Young lady, you listen very carefully: I want you to **slow down**," Vance said sternly. "If you wrap that car around a tree, they won't **have** to shoot you. Find the speed limit and stick with it. West Virginia terrain is not appropriate for hot rodding. Are there other cars on the road with you?"

"Not raight now," she said, "but that's gonna change. They keep flankin' me. There have always been two cahs: one behind and one in front, and they keep findin' me." Her voice rose with her panic. "How do they keep findin' me? Ah did what Jake told me: Ah kept the cell off, and Ah didn't use any credit cahds…"

"You're probably carrying some kind of GPS locator. There's at least one inside the cell phone, and there might be another one inside your gear. We won't discover where it is until we pick you up. Don't try to look for it now," Vance cautioned, "they can be damned small. Just drive."

"I can do that. Ahm jest _so_ tired…" D'Arcy's voice began to wilt.

McGee spoke gently. "Jenna, this is Special Agent Timothy McGee. I need you to trust me. I'm going to give you directions to guide you to our team, ok?"

"Ahm not a chile, Yankee," the young woman snapped, suddenly sounding a LOT more Texan. "If Ah didn't think Ah could trust y'all, Ah wouldn't have called. Ah jes cain't keep dodgin' _bullets_ lahk this…"

McGee eyebrows rose at the dressing-down. "Understood. What are you driving?"

"Ahm in a re-fitted 1969 Mustang Convertible," was her answer. "It's kand of silva in culla, but drab. I don't know the license plate…"

"Nice car," Vance nodded appreciatively, though he knew D'Arcy couldn't see him. "We're watching you by satellite now. Automatic or stick?"

"Stick. Betta gas mahleage and Ah kin accelerate fasta," she explained.

"Smart move, gal," Vance said encouragingly.

"Jenna, you're coming up on an intersection. You need to turn east." McGee kept his voice professional, and tried to not act patronizing.

"East, Ah got it." She paused for a moment. "What is your team drivin'? Ahve had to watch out for a black Towncah and a police cruisa. I hope whoever y'all sent is ahmed, 'cause Ah thank these guys have artillery. They're insane!"

"Don't worry about that," Vance assured her. "I'll identify our team when they get close. Right now I want to get you to Elkins, WV; our team will pick you up there."

"Ok." She hesitated. "Is Jake theyah? He told me I had something y'all would need, but he didn't tell me what. In case your payple don't find me in tahm…"

Vance and McGee exchanged a troubled look. Before McGee could speak, Vance answered.

"If you meant Master Sergeant Bell, yes, he's here. However, he's in another part of the building and can't join us for this operation. You can see him when you get here."

"Ok," Jenna acknowledged, and yawned.

"Jenna, are you having trouble staying awake?" McGee gave Director Vance a worried look.

"Yes. Ah ain't slept in 'bout a day. I kin only sleep in snatches, when I find a good place to hide," she explained.

"Can you tell me who hung up on you?" Vance asked, desperate to keep her awake. "Agent DiNozzo said you tried to call a few days ago."

"Ah don't recall his name, but he sounded young; his voice was a little haigh pitched." She grew agitated at the memory. "He thought Ah was jokin', calling the Navy for an emergency in the middle o' the country. As if _Pennsylvania_ is the middle o' the country! He tol me to hang up and call 911," she snarled bitterly.

"You mad, gal?" Vance said pointedly.

"**HELL YEAH**!" she yelled, her accent thickening again. "The same no-count answered the phone jest naow, but Ah think his supervisa took the phone away from him. Ah screamed somethin at hur, an she connected me to Agent DiNozzo."

"That's good, Miss D'Arcy." Vance said approvingly. "You stay mad: you'll stay awake. We're coming for you. I have to handle something here, so I'm going to leave you with Agent McGee, understand?

"Yes, suh," she answered.

"Jenna?" McGee started curiously.

"Yeah?"

"What did you yell at the operator?"

"Umm, something lak 'Lady, do Ah sound like Ahm orderin a pizza?' When Ah did that, she put me through to Agent DiNozzo raght away," Jenna explained.

McGee laughed out loud. "That's from "Die-Hard 1", no wonder you got Tony! He's our movie buff…."

Director Vance, who had stepped away from the conversation, was growling at a thin young man in a suit.

"Mr. Steppler: did you intercept the call from Miss D'Arcy two days ago, and again just now?" Vance's face was a mask of trouble.

Steppler swallowed nervously. "Yes, Director. I brought the tape up for you, so you could hear it. It was completely ridiculous! She called the Navy for a personal emergency in Pennsylvania! I told her to call 911; they handle things like that. She was just some stupid hick…probably calling us as a prank. I logged it…"

Director Vance's face darkened in anger. "**Stupid hick**? Why, because of her _accent_?" His face darkened angrily, and he stepped into the boy's space. "You listen to **me**, Mr. Steppler. We didn't hire you to **judge** the merit of calls coming into our switchboard. We hired you to push the damn **buttons**, so that people **calling** NCIS can reach the proper office. This woman," he pointed to the screen, where D'Arcy's racing car still showed, "called you for help days ago, and you **cut her off**. She's carrying **evidence** we need for a **case**, and is being pursued by **terrorists**."

Steppler grew indignant. "I didn't know that! The call just seemed too weird to be real!"

"And if they **catch** her, it's on **your head**!" Vance finished.

"What?" The young operator gulped. "Sir, you can't be serious!"

"I'm serious as a heart attack, boy," Vance growled, his eyes narrowing. "If this woman dies, I'll have your ass on an **obstruction** charge, if I can't make an accessory to **murder** stick. As it is, **you're fired**!" Vance motioned to a nearby MP. "Take young Mr. Steppler here, read him his Article 32's, and put him in a holding cell next to, but NOT with, Mr. Naz'rani. I'm sure they will have a lot to discuss," he turned back to the shaking ex-operator even as he finished speaking to the MP, "since Mr. Naz'rani's fiance is in jeopardy because of Mr. Steppler's attitude."

"Yes sir!" The MP answered. He handcuffed Mr. Steppler and led him out of MTAC.

**Meanwhile…**

McGee searched for some way to keep the young woman awake. "Jenna," he asked, "what kind of music can you get?"

"Jest about anythin'," she answered, "Ah have a radio and a CD playa."

"Good. Find some good hard rock and roll to help you stay awake," he ordered.

"Rock an roll? Why not country?" she protested.

"Country won't cut it," he snorted. "I don't want you nodding off at the wheel. You need something with a solid baseline and percussion to keep you alert."

There was a pause.

"Yankee," she said quietly, "Ahm gonna make you _**eat**_ them words."

"So long as you don't put down a plate of fatback and greens to go with it," McGee snorted. Jenna started to protest, and he cut her off. "Look, joking aside, I don't want to drain your cell battery before I have to give directions again, so I'm going to hang up now. We're watching you by satellite, and I'll call you back in a while. You're going to make it. Understand?"

"Ah understand, Agent McGee. Ahm just so TIRED," she sighed, and yawned again.

"Hey, Jenna? You only have to do this for 1 more hour." McGee grew concerned at the weariness in her voice. Her fight wilted too quickly for comfort. "Can you keep going for one hour? We'll reach you by then."

"Ah don't know," she admitted. "Ah cain't keep going like this." She yawned again. "I need to rest…"

McGee pitched his voice lower and bellowed. **"DAMMIT, TEX, WAKE UP!"**

"Ahm here! Ahm awake!" She paused a moment, then continued, sounding embarrassed. "Oh, jeez, Ah thought you were Jake. He yealls at me lak that…good idea."

Director Vance walks up and stands next to Agent McGee, smiling approvingly.

"That almost absolves him of slamming country music, doesn't it Miss D'Arcy?" he rumbled.

"Not quate," she said pointedly, "we shall have to discuss it when Ah get theyah."

"We'll be waiting, then. Miss D'Arcy, we need to end this call, but Agent McGee will continue to monitor your progress, and will call you as needed. Understand?" Vance said.

"Yes, suh," she answered.

"Good. We'll be in contact soon." Vance stood for a moment, then, and scowled at the MTAC satellite feed, which now showed a larger picture. The gas station—now miles behind Jenna D'Arcy—was on fire, and a body lay on the ground. The black Towncar pulled slowly away from the scene. McGee's jaw dropped open, but Vance closed his fingers in a 'hushing' sign: he was to say nothing to Jenna about this.

"NCIS out, Miss D'Arcy." Vance gave McGee the 'kill signal' sign, and McGee hung up.

"Agent McGee," Vance commanded.

"Yes, Director?"

"I want you to call Philippi's EMS, Fire Rescue, and local police. Identify our agency and inform them of a shooting and fire at that gas station. I would like for our Good Samaritan to live, if possible." He bit down on his toothpick again. "Warn them about the black Towncar, while you're at it. These people are armed and incredibly dangerous. They may have killed a cop already, as well as a bystander."

"Yes, Director."

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Inside of an airborne Huey...**

Agent Pescas piloted, while beside and behind him sat Gibbs, DiNozzo, and Ziva, wearing flak jackets and helmets. Gibbs held an M-40A1—his old sniper rifle—while DiNozzo carried his Glock and Ziva her Sig Saur. A spare flak jacket sat on the floor between DiNozzo and David. Agent Pescas chatted with the local air traffic control tower, while Gibbs shouted over the helicopter's noise at Vance.

"We're airborne now, Leon, and heading west. Where _exactly_ are we going?" Gibbs was frustrated. He _hated_ turning control over to anybody else, even for directions.

"Your destination is Elkins, West Virginia. I've sent Agent Pescas the co-ordinates. There's a small airport there; it's a fair-sized town," Vance explained. "I have McGee communicating with local LEOs. By the time you get there, I'll have a ground vehicle ready for DiNozzo. We're going to have to cut this one close, Gibbs. Miss D'Arcy's dogs are on her heels, and she's tired."

"What's she driving?" Gibbs shouted. "We could just land next to her, and pull her out of her car. It would be faster," he pointed out.

"She's in an old silver Mustang convertible. Her chase cars were a black Lincoln Towncar and an out-of-state police cruiser." Vance glowered. "They've been coming at her from different directions, Gibbs, so watch out. These guys were serious. They didn't care about who got in the way, they just shot anybody that came between them and the target. A simple snatch-and-grab won't work, Gibbs. These perps won't let it be that easy."

"I wasn't expecting them to go quietly, either, Leon. Any word from local LEOs yet?" Gibbs hollered back.

"They're standing by, but I can't send them out after Miss D'Arcy. Someone shot at her from a police cruiser; she won't be able to tell the difference between the real and the fake. I've told her not to stop until she gets to Elkins," Vance said pointedly.

"Understood," Gibbs said, adjusting his M-40A1. "We'll get her, Leon."

"Boss!" Tony shouted. "I've got an idea!"

"It's about time, DiNozzo!" Gibbs hollered over his shoulder. "What is it?"

DiNozzo and Ziva both leaned forward.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**Highway 219: just west of Elkins, WV**.

Two black-and-white city police cruisers sat on either side of the highway, and uniformed officers, both carrying rifles, chatted as they waited in the early evening. Another police cruiser approached from the east and stopped. The driver rolled down his window and yelled something to one of the officers, who approached and started talking. His partner glanced at the front of the new vehicle and frowned suspiciously. He started to walk towards the newcomer when the driver's door suddenly opened.

The Elkins' patrolmen shouted and tried to assume combat positions, but it was too late. Multiple shots rang out, and they both fell: dead. The strange car pulled up and parked in the grass, and its occupants, also dressed in police uniforms, jumped out. They stripped the weapons from the now dead Elkins officers and dragged their bodies into the grass beside the road. The fake officers then got into individual Elkins' police cars and set the road block up ¼ mile further down the road.

**East of Elkins, WV.**

The Huey landed in a grassy strip reserved for ultra-lite aircraft. Ducking to avoid the still-rotating blades, Tony and Ziva jumped out of the helicopter and ran to meet a police officer standing next to a black SUV. After quick introductions, Tony jumped in the driver's seat and Ziva in the passenger side. They took off through town, heading for the roadblock. The helicopter took off again, aiming now north and west.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Just North-West of Elkins, WV…**

Jenna's silver convertible approached the now booby-trapped roadblock; it was only a mile away. Dirt roads and fields surrounded the highway, and no other cars were present. Watching from MTAC, McGee again dialed her cell phone…

"Jenna D'Arcy? This is Agent McGee."

"Hey, Yankee. Ah thought y'all had forgotten 'bout me…" she answered.

"Not a chance, Tex. I have good news, too," McGee said, smiling. "You're approaching Elkins, and the local police have set up a small roadblock. They will allow you to pass through, and then will close the road so the towncar behind you can't get through. You're almost done. Our team is heading for you right now. We have people on the ground and in the air. Look for a black SUV and a military helicopter. Understand?"

"Ah understand. Ah can see the officers up ahead now," Jenna acknowledged. She still sounded tired, but relieved.

Director Vance approached the screen as he talked to Gibbs, who was again airborne.

"Gibbs: Miss D'Arcy is approaching the Elkins PD roadblock now. Is DiNozzo en route yet? I want him to meet her there, so he can escort her to your pickup point." Vance scowled as he looked at the satellite feed.

"Affirmative," Gibbs shouted. "Ziva is in the escort vehicle too, in case they need more firepower. Any sign of the other chaser car?"

"Negative, Gibbs, just the two…" Vance paused, and his scowl deepened. "**DAMMIT**," he shouted.

"What? Repeat, Leon! What's happening?" Gibbs shouted back.

Vance ignored Gibbs, though, and grabbed the phone away from McGee.

"Jenna! Abort!" he bellowed into the phone. "This is Director Vance: **ABORT**!"

"What?" She quickly picked up his fear. "What do ya mean?"

"**STOP THE DAMN CAR!**" Vance bellowed. "_The roadblock has been compromised!_ **Turn around**, and get back on Highway 250. Take the alternate entrance and head east!"

Breaks squealed over the phone, and on the screen the silver Mustang slid to a halt, turning as it did. Dust flew over the disguised killers, who dropped their protective stances and jumped into their vehicles. As the Mustang peeled away towards the larger highway, they took chase again.

"Oh my god…I almost killed her." McGee was visibly shaken. "Director, how did you…?"

Vance pointed to the screen. "Two cops, but three cars, and one of _them_ in the grass. The Elkins officers are probably dead." He turned to his headset link to Gibbs. "Gibbs! Where are you and your team?"

"Pescas and I are airborne and en route. DiNozzo and David are on SR 58, en route to Highway 33. _What happened?"_ He shouted back.

"_The damn roadblock was compromised_, that's what happened," Vance answered. "I'm beginning to think there's a damn mole…" he turned to McGee. "Agent McGee, get DiNozzo or David on the phone, and tell them to take 33 to the 219/250 North bypass and stay on it. They need to punch it; they're too far away," he insisted. He glowered at the screen. "_How did they know?" _he muttered to no one but himself.

"On it, Director," McGee nodded. He turned quickly called Ziva and relayed the Director's orders. Director Vance, meanwhile, resumed talking to D'Arcy.

"Miss D'Arcy, this is Director Vance again. Where are you now?"

Jenna's voice betrayed her panic. "Ah thought y'all had me on satellite! Ahm in a silver muscle car, and Ahm doing 110," she shouted.

"Tracking…gotcha! D'Arcy, take the 219/250 exit south. _Don't_ let them isolate you on the road; you have to get into town!" he commanded.

"Ah understand," she replied, her voice shaking. Softly, almost as an aside, Vance heard her plea: "Oh, _Lawd_, please help me get threw this." She took a deep breath and started talking again. "Ah made the turn…now what?" A steady thrumming came through the phone.

"Just _drive_, young lady, and try not to hit anybody else. These men are cold, but they aren't stupid enough to do anything in a crowd," Vance advised. A blur appeared next to the speeding muscle car, and he turned to the chopper's link. "Gibbs! Location?"

"We're right above her, Leon," Gibbs shouted back. "Traffic is thinning out; it's just past dinnertime. Where the **hell** are DiNozzo and David? The imposters are using their bubble lights to clear traffic. I don't see the black town car anywhere."

"Team Two is still heading north; they had to take the long way. We have to connect these dots somehow…" Vance began.

"I have an idea, Director," McGee said suddenly.

"Spill it, McGee," Vance commanded.

McGee pointed to the aerial view of Elkins. "This section of the highway goes through the restaurant district. Have Tony and Ziva pull off into one of the drive-thrus, and direct Miss D'Arcy to that restaurant. She can _switch_ vehicles there; her pursuers don't know what Tony and Ziva are driving; they'll be looking for the muscle car."

"Excellent suggestion, McGee," Vance nodded his approval. He took the phone from Tim's hand and spoke into it. "DiNozzo, David, did you catch that?"

"Affirmative," Ziva responded. "We are pulling into…Ray's Burger Barn. It is on the west side of the road."

"Park where she can see you," Vance commanded! "We're re-directing her now."

McGee reclaimed the phone line to Jenna D'Arcy. "Jenna, this is Agent McGee. You're coming up on a restaurant called Ray's Burger Barn. Do you see it? Our people are waiting there for you."

"No…not yet, Ah kin see the helicoptah, though." Jenna glanced skyward for a moment at the thrumming aircraft that shadowed her. "Which saide of the road is it on," she asked quickly, "and how will Ah know it's really them?"

"It's on your right!" Tim instructed. "Look for a tall white man standing next to a black SUV. He'll be wearing a flak jacket. That's Tony, I mean, Agent DiNozzo. Do you know any James Bond movies?" he asked suddenly.

"Just a few," Jenna admitted, "but mostly Roger Moore…why?"

"Tony knows everything Bond," McGee explained. "Ask him a Bond trivia question to verify his identity; make it vague. An imposter wouldn't expect the question, and probably couldn't answer it. If he CAN'T answer, keep driving!"

"Ah got it," Jenna breathed. There was silence for a moment, then… "Ah kin see him!" she said excitedly.

McGee heard her engine power down, and on the screen, the muscle car pulled off the road. The blur that was a helicopter pulled off a little and buzzed some of the other traffic.

**In the parking lot of Ray's Burger Barn, Elkins, WV.**

DiNozzo, standing next to the SUV, waved at the approaching muscle car and turned to his partner. "She's coming, Ziva. Toss me that flak jacket, and tell Director Vance we have her."

The silver Mustang pulled up, swinging around so the passenger side faced DiNozzo, wheels throwing gravel and dust. He reached down and yanked the door open.

"Jenna D'Arcy? I'm Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NC…" he stopped short, staring into the twin barrels of a shotgun_** pointed at his head**_.

"Pleased ta make yor acquaintance." Jenna D'Arcy's voice shook, but the hand on the gun was steady. "What band did the soundtrack for Roger Moore's "A View to a Kill", and had cameo roles in the movie?"

DiNozzo froze, stunned, his mouth hanging open. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

D'Arcy's finger twitched closer to the trigger, and doubt leapt into her eyes. "**ANSWER ME!"** she screamed.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**The parking lot of Ray's Burger Barn, outside of Elkins, WV **

DiNozzo bent over the open passenger door of Jenna D'Arcy's silver Mustang, mouth agape, and stared into the twin vertical barrels of her loaded shotgun. He blinked once, and looked past the gun to the frantic woman holding it…

To her face: black and swollen where she had been beaten,

To her hair: tousled and matted with blood, which fell over her shoulders and neck and failed to hide the finger-marks on her throat,

To her eyes: wide with terror and desperation...

She hiccupped and gasped in pain. A gold heart locket hung from her neck: its chain twisted. Her jeans and once-white shirt had seen _much_ better days.

DiNozzo spread his hands, holding up the flak jacket in one hand and nothing in the other. Behind him, Ziva saw his reaction and exited the SUV, pulling her sidearm as she moved. Ziva crossed in front of their vehicle, crouched low, until she had Jenna's face in her pistol sights.

It only took Tony seconds to answer, but it still felt like forever.

"It was Duran-Duran," he said evenly. "They did the title soundtrack, cameo appearances at the party scene, and an interactive video where Simon LaBon identified himself in agent fashion, just before blowing up a picture of the Eiffel Tower on a postcard." He waved at Ziva. "Stand down, Ziva, I'm ok. She's just being careful, right Jenna?"

Jenna shuddered, closed her eyes and took her finger off the trigger. "Y-yes. Ahm sorry, Ah had ta be certain." Flipping the safety on the shotgun, she put it behind the driver's seat. "Get in, will ya? Ah can folla yer partna."

Tony shook his head and held out his hand. "This is where you join _us_, Jenna. The chase ends here. Come on. My partner and I will get you to safety."

Jenna looked over her shoulder. Two police cars, lights and sirens blaring, bore down on them. Each car had only one 'officer' inside.

"There's no _tahm_!" she screamed. "Get in! **This is faster than an SUV!**"

DiNozzo looked up, spotted the imposter police cars, and jumped into the Mustang. Sticking his head out the window, he shouted: "Ziva! Follow and flank! We need interference to get to the air-strip!"

"**On it**," Ziva called back. She climbed behind the wheel of the SUV, and revved the engine. "**GO**," she shouted!

Tony looked directly at Jenna's injuries as she pulled back onto the highway. Up close, they were even uglier. She flinched from his gaze, looking at the rear-view mirrors and the road, instead of at him.

"South," he said grimly. "Drive south, and take State Road 33 when it branches east." He paused, looked at her battered face again, and then asked angrily: "Who did this to you?"

Jenna flinched. "Drave now; talk laeta. I cain't do much a both." She spared a quick glance at DiNozzo. "Buckle up, will yew? This could get rough." She bit her already-swollen lip. "Ahm sorry about Bess…Ah had ta be sure. They almost had me at the roadblock, an…"

Tony cut her off. "Don't apologize; my boss calls it a sign of weakness. It was a smart move." He snapped his safety belt in place, and then reached for her shoulder reassuringly, only to pull away when he saw her flinch. "You're going to be ok. How did you know to ask about Bond movies?"

"It was the Yankee…Ah mean…Agent McGee's idea, in case they had replaced yew like they had those officahs." Her voice was strained. The cell phone beside her began playing the Marine anthem. "That's probably him on the cell now," she nodded.

"I've got it," Tony told her, "just keep driving. Our turn is coming up soon." He flipped the phone open. "Agent DiNozzo here. Is that you, Yankee-Probie?"

"Not quite," said Vance sternly. "Just what the hell are you doing, DiNozzo? You and Ziva are supposed to be escorting Miss D'Arcy to the landing strip."

Tony stiffened in his seat. "Director Vance! Sir, we are, but we had to improvise a little. I'm currently in Miss D'Arcy's vehicle giving directions. Ziva is on our six, and the imposter LEOs are on hers. There's no sign of the town car. Any way we can get the fake cops to back off?"

"Elkins PD is on it, and Gibbs has you covered from the air," the Director said. "Just get to the rendezvous point. You're surrounded by backup. Vance out."

Tony snapped the phone shut, relieved. "It isn't much farther, Jenna. Take the Highway 33 intersection left; we're almost there."

Jenna nodded. "Can yew put in a CD?" she asked. "The beat helps me stay awake." Her eyes scanned the highway nervously as Tony started looking around for a case. "It's raht theyah, betwixt the seats." She patted a fold-down compartment, where Tony found the CD case.

"Hmmm," he said, looking at the odd assortment, "You have quite a collection here: 'Snoop Dogg's Greatest Hits', 'Rihanna', some movie themes, 'Celtic Highlights'…funny, I figured you for country or R&B…" he mused.

Jenna scowled. "Thayat's Jake's stuff. The Celtic is pretty, but too melodic. It'll put me to sleep. Tra some o' the show tunes," she suggested.

"You have got to be _kidding_ me!" he protested. "'Best of Star Wars'? 'Chronicles of Dune'?" He made a gagging face at the window.

Jenna flashed him an annoyed look. "_One_ ignant Yankee is _enough_! Don't diss the space opera, Chewbacca, and don't use it, neitha! We're in a muscle cah in a life-or-death chase! Ah thought you were a movie buff? 'Top Gun'!"

Tony smiled a little as he found the CD; her ability to argue was a good sign. He popped the case open, and loaded the CD into the player, and in seconds "Highway to the Danger Zone" pounded through the car.

"Definitely better," he nodded. "Here comes our intersection…Wait a minute, '_Chewbacca_'?" It was his turn to look annoyed. "How did** I** get to be 'Chewbacca'? And who does that make **you**?"

Jenna smiled a little as she downshifted. "Weall…Yore _bigger_ than me," she glanced at him quickly, "definitely _hairier_, and yore _navigating_. Ahm draivin' the re-fitted muscle cah, and carrying the BFG, which makes ME Han Solo," she argued.

Tony groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Help me, Probie-wan Kenobi," he muttered. He looked forward, and suddenly sat up straight. "Jenna! **Left**, through the grassy median, **NOW!**" he shouted.

Jenna twisted the wheel, skidded through grass and slid on gravel as she maneuvered the turn, and narrowly missed a black town car coming through the intersection from the west. She pulled out of the skid, and hit the accelerator, and the Mustang leaped forward. The driver of the town car rolled down his window, stuck out his hand, and fired two pistol rounds at the crazily swerving car. Both missed.

Behind them, Ziva did a similar maneuver, but slammed the side of her SUV into the town car and knocked it aside. The pistol fell to the street as the town car slid away and flipped around. Ziva corrected her course and took off after the silver Mustang. The two stolen Elkins' police cars, bubble lights _still_ flashing, managed the turn better and pulled ahead of Ziva, coming between her and the Mustang. She pulled out her cell phone and punched Tony's speed dial.

"That was damn close, Ziva," he answered. "You ok?"

"I am fine, but **you** are not. They are between us! Punch it!" Ziva yelled.

"ON IT! Where the _**hell**_ is Gibbs!" Tony yelled back.

**Above them…**

The Huey dove towards the speeding cars, and Gibbs steadied his rifle.

"**Keep it steady, Pescas!"** Gibbs yelled above the rotors. "**I'm only going to get one shot, and I don't want to take out the wrong car!" **Under his breath, he added: "Hang on kids, Daddy's coming…"

Balancing forward, Gibbs sighted along his rifle as Pescas maneuvered the helicopter between the Mustang and the stolen police cruisers. One shot cracked the air, and a hole punched through the engine block of the forward car. It skidded out of control and slid off the road, engine smoking, and stopped in a stand of small trees. The driver staggered out and ran toward the road, gun drawn. The other stolen cruiser continued to pursue the Mustang, with Ziva's SUV speeding up behind it. Behind her, a black town car closed in: not made for the race, but handling it as best as it can.

Behind the town car, the pursuer from the wrecked cruiser reached the highway, only to be intercepted by two _real_ Elkins police officers. They exchanged fire, and the murderer fell.

Within the Mustang, DiNozzo watched as one stolen cruiser wrecked behind them…

"Waa-hoo! One down! Thank you, Gibbs!" he yelled exultantly.

Jenna inhaled sharply at a memory. "The CD's…" she began.

DiNozzo checked his sidearm, taking his eyes from the road for a moment. "What about them?"

"In case Ah don't make it…" worry lines creased her face.

"Don't talk like that, D'Arcy," Tony cautioned. "Don't give up now, don't even _think_ it. You're gonna make it."

Jenna shook her head stubbornly. "_Listen_, will yew? Yew need something on them. Jake told me they were important…He jest wouldn't say what…"

"We'll figure that out later. Focus _now_, Jenna," Tony said sternly. "Look for State Road 58; it will branch off to the left. That's your next turn." He glanced in the rear-view mirror and growled under his breath. "That damn cruiser is too close. Come on, Ziva…"

**Above them…**

"Got one!" Gibbs yelled. "Swing it around, Pescas! I want another shot!" He ratcheted another round into the chamber.

"No side-seat flying, Gibbs!" Pescas yelled back. "By the way: nice shooting…for an old guy…" His smile faded as he caught sight of Gibb's glare, and he returned to business. "Right…"

**Back on the road…**

The killer driving the stolen police cruiser pulled up a rifle and leveled it, left-handed, outside his window at the back of the speeding Mustang. He pushed his accelerator to the floor, drew closer, and started to shoot.

Ziva realized his intent and _floored_ the SUV, ramming the larger vehicle into the rear bumper of the hijacked car. The impact sent the shot harmlessly into the air, and the rifle jarred loose from the driver's hand. It fell to the highway where it was quickly run over. The killer momentarily lost control of his vehicle and started to swerve; he took his foot off the accelerator as he tried to correct his course. Ziva pulled up beside the racing car and drew her pistol. As the driver of the car leveled a handgun at Ziva, she squeezed off three shots into his right front tire. The tire shredded and the cruiser swerved again, then flipped around in a 180 degree spin, smashing into Ziva's SUV before crashing into a ditch. The airbag deployed, but the driver remained still.

Ziva, nudged off course by the crashing police car, also spun out, but managed to stop her vehicle before it ran off the road. She shook her head to clear it and looked at the crashed cruiser with the unconscious driver. She whipped up her pistol again and put two shots into the engine block, and then grabbed her cell phone.

"**Tony**," she yelled, "the other cruiser has been eliminated! Elkins PD are assisting with the imposters. Get to the air-strip; I'm on your six!"

She snapped her phone shut without waiting for an answer, twisted the wheel, and re-started her cover pursuit, but she was too late. The laboring black town car, having caught sight of the smoking cruiser, steered his car into a side-swiping crash against Ziva's SUV. The impact sent her vehicle skidding across the highway, and the SUV stopped short of the ditch. Striking her head on the door-frame Ziva slumped sideways, bleeding from her temple. The black town car did **not** stop. Instead, it continued its pursuit of the fleeing Mustang…

**Overhead… **

Gibbs and Pescas witnessed the twin crashes and noted the final pursuer: a black Town car. Gibbs grabbed his cell phone and punched Ziva's speed dial…

"Ziva, ZIVA! **PICKUP, DAMMIT**!" He shouted desperately. The phone rang three times before it went to voice mail.

"Shalom, you have reached Ziva's cell phone. I cannot talk now, so please leave a message after the tone…"

**BEEP.**

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Intersection of Highway 33 and State Road 58, West Virginia… **

Ditches, power lines, and woods flanked the road. Tony and Jenna's Mustang slowed to make the turn and was followed by the black Towncar.

Behind them, two other vehicles sat in ditches: one a stolen police cruiser, smoke rising from its hood; the other a black SUV. The disguised killer was semi-conscious and trapped by his airbag. Ziva stirred painfully as blood dripped from her nose and forehead. Her airbag had deployed and pinned her to her seat, but she pulled her combat knife and punctured it. Once free, she grabbed her cell phone and called Gibbs.

"Gibbs! I am all right, just a shaken up, but the Towncar got ahead of me. Tony and Jenna have no backup!" she shouted.

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment in relief. "Understood," he shouted. "If you can drive, meet us at the airstrip. If you can't, let Elkins PD bring you in. Gibbs out!"

Ziva hung up and tried to get her SUV started again, but it would _not_ respond. Looking up, she saw the bubble lights of real police cars approaching. She grabbed her sidearm, holstered it, pulled out her badge and stepped out of the SUV, waving her arms to flag them down. The first one on the scene stopped, and the officers jumped out, weapons drawn.

"**Elkins PD! Keep your hands where I can see them and identify yourself**," one officer shouted.

Ziva raised her hands, her NCIS badge clutched in one. "**I am NCIS Agent Ziva David, and I am in the midst of a pursuit.** _That car_," she motioned to the crashed police cruiser, "was driven by a suspected terrorist who may have killed one of your officers. His accomplices are still in pursuit of my partner and a female witness; they are trying to kill them both."

The officers nodded and holstered his weapon, and the older of the two approached her. "I remember you from the debriefing photos, ma'am. I am Sergeant Tackett. Are you injured?"

Ziva lowered her hands and shook her head. "Not severely, just shaken up, and my vehicle will not start. Please, we may have only moments. My partner needs assistance. **That** man," she pointed at the stirring terrorist, "must be taken into secure custody. Under the Homeland Security Act, he has **no **Article 32 rights. May I use your vehicle, Sergeant Tackett?"

Officer Tackett stepped closer to Ziva and looked carefully into her eyes before answering.

"Negative," he said sternly. "You are in no condition to drive."

Ziva reached shakily for her weapon. "I must insist…my partner…"

"**I** will drive," he continued. "My partner will secure this murderous SOB." He turned to the younger officer. "**Won'**t you, Corporal Mason?"

Corporal Mason saluted and smiled grimly. "With pleasure, Sarge," he said, and moved around the smoking ruins of the crashed cruiser.

"Corporal?" Tackett called.

"Yeah, Sarge?"

"You don't have to be gentle. Just don't **kill** him," the older man warned.

Corporal Mason nodded. "Understood."

Sergeant Tackett took the driver's seat while Ziva slid into the passenger side. The police cruiser spun its tires as it took off down State Road 58. Behind them, Corporal Mason jerked open the murderer's driver side door, hauled out the stunned terrorist, and threw him to the ground.

"Welcome to West Virginia…**asshole**," he snarled.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**State Road 58: NE West Virginia. **

Deep woods flanked the road which climbed into hills, and those tree limbs blocked a complete view of the road from the air. The silver Mustang carrying DiNozzo and Jenna D'Arcy sped up the road, whining as Jenna shifted. They gradually pulled away from the pursuing black town car, which now showed damage from recent collisions. While the space between them increased, they were unable to shake their pursuers. Above the pair of cars, CIA agent Pescas maneuvered the helicopter, trying to find an avenue for Gibbs' clear shot, but the woods stymied them.

DiNozzo glanced between the road in front of them and the rear-view mirror. "This is going to be close. It isn't far now, Jenna." He glanced at her and then the trash-strewn back. "Is there anything we need to grab when we get to the airstrip, other than the CD's? I don't see much back here other than your gun and some…oh my _god_…look at all of the_ junk_! Donuts…snack crackers…cookies…Hey…Fudge stripes…" He reached for the package as Jenna spoke.

Jenna glanced in the rear-view mirror and shifted again. "Jest Bess and her case," she said, sounding tired, "Ah kin come back for anything else." Glancing down, she smacked Tony's hand and glared at him. "Hey! Leave mah cookies alone! They's all Ah kin keep down!" She paused, thinking. "Maybe Jake's cell phone; he's gonta want it back."

DiNozzo winced at the mention of Master Sergeant Bell's name, but Jenna didn't notice. She was too busy driving.

"Ow!" he said, pulling back his hand and shaking it. "Good thinking. We didn't come in a bus; there's no room for extra luggage." He pulled out the music CD and filed it back into the case. "Almost there; take the next left." He glanced at the rear-view mirror again. "Ziva, where are you?" he muttered.

"Ahm sorry, who did you say?"

DiNozzo glanced at her face again and then back at the town car. "My partner: Ziva David. She's from Israel: good officer, crazy driver, a _great_ person to have on your six." He scowled and said almost to himself, "She's supposed to be there now…"

"Agent DiNozzo?" He could tell by her voice she was worried about something new.

"Yeah, D'Arcy?"

"How do we get from the cah to the helicoptah? Without getting shot, Ah mean?" she gave him another worried look.

Tony glowered over his shoulder. "We'll improvise," he shrugged. "Plus, we have air cover. My boss is in the chopper, and he's a crack shot." He glanced forward. "Turn here, and floor it," he commanded.

Jenna twisted the Mustang's wheel, sending dirt and dust flying as she skidded onto a dirt track. The airstrip flattened out in front of them: a grassy, level field. The Mustang's tires ground into the turf; they were free of the trees, and the black town car lagged ¼ of a mile behind them.

"Where!" Jenna shouted.

"Anywhere!" Tony shouted back, and then reconsidered. "Drive to the end of the field! The chopper can land between us!"

Jenna shifted again, but the Mustang had little purchase on the grassy strip. Deep tire tracks grew where the tread bit into the ground. The Mustang bounced over the grassy terrain and then stuck in the ground before reaching the far side of the field, with the passenger's side facing the open field and their enemies. The black town car followed them and closed in, but was cut off by the swooping helicopter. Gibbs leveled his rifle out the window and fired. A hole appeared in the front hood, and the town car slid to a halt. Driver and passenger dove out of the car and placed it between them and the menacing sharpshooter. They drew their own pistols started shooting at the helicopter! One bullet flashed off the landing gear, another just below the window, and Pescas, at the stick, pulled away before Gibbs could take another shot.

"**What the hell are you doing?**" Gibbs bellowed. "DiNozzo and D'Arcy need cover!"

"Not getting **shot**; that's what I'm doing!" Pescas hollered back. "We can't cover them if we're dead or crashed! I'm coming around!"

Tony and Jenna bailed out of the Mustang, and DiNozzo ran around to Jenna's side and pulled her into the tall grass, with the body of the still-running Mustang between them and the town car. It was their **only** cover; the field around them was bare, and they could not reach the woods. DiNozzo reacheed into Jenna's still-open door, grabbed the CD case and pulled it to the grass. He tried to press Jenna down, but she pushed him away, and scrambled back into the Mustang. She emerged with Bess (the shotgun) and a gun case. Her eyes were manic. Switching off the safety, she fired two shots at the now-stalled town car, shattering its windows.

"**Ahm not running any more, yew bastards**!" she screamed defiantly.

Tony tried to wave her down without success. "**Jenna! Stay down! Backup is on the way**!" he yelled as bullets whined overhead.

Jenna ignored Tony, screaming at her chasers instead. **"Yew want a fight, yew've got one!" **Finally realizing Tony's orders made sense, she squatted behind a rear tire. **"Yew think y'all kin take me, naow that it ain't four 'gainst one?"**

The shooting stopped momentarily, and a male voice with a Middle-eastern accent called from the other side of the town car.

"I never needed the other three, _habibty_! I could have handled this myself, but the boss insisted otherwise! You're the one who dragged this out!" He fired two shots at the car, so Tony and Jenna ducked down more. Jenna's looked shocked, and Tony tried to get her to put on the flak jacket he had brought for her.

"Habibty?" he asked, trying (and failing) to secure the loose flak jacket on the frantically struggling woman who kept smacking his hands. "What the hell is a 'habibty'? And will you put the damn **armor **on, woman?"

Jenna shook her head in disbelief before reaching for the flak jacket. "Habibty means 'darlin' or 'sweetie', or 'baby', an only a few gahs…" she flushed angrily. "**TEL?** Is thayat yew?" she yelled, peeking over the car's shattered window before Tony hauled her down again.

"Yes, _habibaty_, it's me! It does not have to be like this," he shouted back. "Get rid of the gangster so we can all go home! I tire of this nonsense!"

Jenna dropped to the grass and opened the gun case. Inside was a smaller box. Opening it, she removed tools and parts, and started stripping down her hot shotgun, sucking on her finger as the hot metal singed them.

Tony glanced over at her. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Baby mah ass," she muttered. "**Yew mand tellin' me what Ah did to piss you off**?" she yelled to her attacker. "An' bah the way, you-all are **fared** !"

Bullets bounced off the top of the Mustang and smashed through the windows, scattering glass. DiNozzo looked up long enough to return fire, and then ducked down behind the rear tire, next to Jenna. Jenna continued to work on her gun, adding extra parts.

"The boss told us to find and secure you! Nothing personal, _habibaty_! It's just a job!" Armaugh yelled back. "You have not been keeping good company!"

DiNozzo shouted so Armaugh could hear: "Don't take it personally, Jenna. Guys like him aren't capable of thinking for themselves!" To Jenna, he added in a hoarse whisper: "What the hell are you doing? This is no time to pack it in!"

Jenna looked up, annoyed, and her matted hair fell in front of her blackened face.

"Ah thought you were a **fed**!" She hissed at him, peeved. "Ahm not **packing**! THIS," she motioned to the kit, "is a calibah conversion sleeve, and THAT," she pointed to the part she had just fastened to her shotgun, "is a sub-gauge insert! **Bess goes both ways**!" Jenna grabbed rifle slugs and loaded the now-converted shotgun, pumped it twice, and fired two rifle shots into the body of the black town car, then reloaded.

Tony's jaw dropped open. He was silent for a minute and then shook his head. "Don't say it…she's a _witness_…I'm not touching that one…shut up, DiNozzo…" he muttered to himself.

Jenna's head snapped around. "What?"

"NOTHING!" He yelled back.

Jenna ducked another round and turned to Tony. "Do yew know where the gas tank is on a town cah? I could try an shewt it, make it blow up," she suggested.

Tony looked at Jenna quickly and shook his head. "That doesn't work in real life, Jenna, only in the movies. Good thing, too. They could just as easily do it to us." He raised his head and sniffed. "I think it's already punctured anyway. I small gas, but not close, so it isn't from us."

The shooting stopped momentarily, and Tony motioned for Jenna to stay down. The helicopter re-oriented on the far side of the field, and in the distance Tony and Jenna could hear police sirens. DiNozzo opened his cell phone and punched Gibbs' speed dial.

"**BOSS! WE COULD USE A LITTLE HELP DOWN HERE!"** he bellowed frantically.

"**On our way! Hang on!"** Gibbs shouted back. He sighted down his scope again at the now crouching assassins, who opened a small box. Black egg shapes showed inside it, and Gibbs caught sight of one of them through the scope. "Shit," he cursed, and grabbed the phone again to scream: **"DINOZZO! RUN! FIRE IN THE HOLE!"**

Tel Armaugh crouched behind the black town car and pulled out a box of grenades. He handed one to Barron Geld, who was beside him. "Time to finish this," he nodded to Geld. He shouted to Jenna: "You had your chance to do this cleanly. Now it is time to say 'goodbye', _habibaty_!"

"It is almost a pity," Geld muttered. "I kind of liked her."

Both assassins pulled the pins on a grenade and launched them, overhand, at the now silent Mustang.

Behind the Mustang's tire, DiNozzo dropped the cell phone and turned to Jenna. He seemed to move in slow motion…

"JENNA! RUN! GRENADE!" he bellowed.

Jenna kicked back into a crouch and snapped Bess into position. Tracking the flying grenades she fired two precision shots, which struck them in mid-air and bounced them _**back**_ to the black town car. They landed beneath it, in the gas-soaked turf. The assassins' faces whitened, and they _tried_ to run away...

"**DUMBASSES!"** she screamed in rage. **"DO NOT THROW THINGS AT A SKEET CHAMPION! AH DON'T MISS!"**

DiNozzo's face paled, but he threw himself on top of Jenna and covered her body with his own as the grenades exploded. 'Bess' fell to the ground. Parts of the wrecked town car landed around them and the grass flamed. A piece of black rear-view mirror bounced off of Tony's flak jacket, and an anguished scream came from one of the assassins.

"Holy Shit, Batman," Tony gasped.

Dazed, Armaugh scrambled to his feet and saw Tony and Jenna lying exposed behind the Mustang. Geld writhed on the ground, burned and bleeding. Face blackened with dirt and soot, Armaugh snarled and unsteadily raised his pistol for a clear shot.

Above them, Gibbs raised his rifle, aimed, and fired at Armaugh.

DiNozzo looked up and swung his sidearm around, left-handed. His shot cracked at the same time as Gibb's. The bullets met inside Armaugh, and he stood, shocked, before falling dead.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" yelled Pescas.

Gibbs nodded admiringly "NICE SHOOTIN', TEX!" he yelled out the helicopter. Turning to Pescas, he shouted: "Put it down! We're done!"

Pescas pulled the helicopter around and landed a safe distance away from the wrecked vehicles. The police car carrying Ziva and Sergeant Tackett sped up the driveway, siren blaring. Tackett ran to secure the wounded Geld, stripping him of his weapons and performing first aid. Ziva, a little unsteady on her feet, ran to the stranded Mustang. She found Tony still half-covering Jenna, who lay still on the grass, blood seeping from a cut on her head, pale and shaking.

Tony felt for a pulse in Jenna's neck. "D'Arcy, are you ok?" He shook her gently. "Jenna? Come on; talk to me!"

Jenna took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Tony's face was directly above her, and for a moment their eyes met.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "Yor eyes…Ahve seen them befo… this is too wead." She blinked hard, shaking now in shock. "Are we theyah yet?"

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. "Yep. Come on…transportation is this way." He began helping Jenna to her feet, and turned to Ziva. "Grab that CD case by the Mustang! D'Arcy said there was evidence in it!"

Tony helped Jenna stand up, but she was obviously shaken and seemed suddenly weak. She started to walk, unsteady, and he slid his arm under her shoulders. She sagged against him and then crumpled. Tony scooped her up like a child and carried her towards the waiting chopper. Gibbs met him halfway, and stooping, the two men finished loading her onboard. She roused as they set her down.

"Tony?" she called out, a little shakily.

"I'm here, D'Arcy. What is it?" He patted her shoulder. "You're safe. We got you."

"If yew…eat my cookies…Ah sweara ye'll be picking shot out of yor ass for a week." She shook an unsteady finger at him, and added drunkenly: "Ah don' miss." Her eyes closed, and she sagged back onto the helicopter floor, unconscious.

Gibbs laughed. "We noticed. Atta, girl," he added, and smoothed down her hair. He covered her with a blanket from inside the chopper, and then looked up. "Where's Ziva?" he asked Tony worriedly.

Ziva staggered up with the CD case. "I am here, Gibbs, and I am all right. Sergeant Tackett has secured the last terrorist; he was very helpful. I can stay and help Tony process the scene," she volunteered, but Gibbs cut her off.

"The _hell_ you will," he snapped, noting her bruised head and mismatched eyes. "Ziva, get _in_ and ride with Miss D'Arcy. DiNozzo…" he began.

"I'm on it, Boss." Tony spoke up before Gibbs could give him the command. "I'll stay and process the scene, and meet you in DC day after tomorrow." He backed away from the helicopter and gave Gibbs and Pescas a thumbs-up. "GO!"

Inside the chopper, Pescas pulled back on the stick, raising and turning the chopper towards DC. He saluted DiNozzo, then pushed the Huey up and increases its speed. In a moment the airstrip was left behind.

"BETHESZDA!" Gibbs shouted from the back seat, where he had finished securing both Ziva and Jenna D'Arcy. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, punching the Director's number. "Vance! This is Gibbs! We have her, repeat: we have her…"

**Back on the ground…**

Tony DiNozzo bent over to pick up 'Bess', and walked to meet Sergeant Tackett. He paused to wave at the departing chopper.

"Helluva shot you just made, kid," the policeman said, impressed. "Your boss must be proud."

DiNozzo didn't take his eyes off the departing chopper as he spoke. "I would be too, if I had made it. That came from _her_," he jerked his thumb at the departing helicopter, "our witness." He took a deep breath. "_**Damn**_, that was really hot!"

The two men walked back towards Tackett's squad car, now flanked by more police cruisers and an ambulance…

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Betheszda Hospital waiting room: late evening**.

Gibbs, Vance, McGee, and Pescas sat in a circle, the CD case in front of them on a coffee table. Some distance away from them, Angela D'Arcy sat at a desk with an admissions administrator going over paperwork. She appeared shaken, and often dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. It was late, and the hospital was quiet except for the occasional passing nurse.

"So where is Agent DiNozzo right now?" Vance asked Gibbs.

Gibbs stretched before answering. "He stayed behind in Elkins to process the scene. I spoke to him soon after we landed here. Apparently our bogus cops killed two local boys in Elkins, and took their place at the roadblock you had arranged for Miss D'Arcy. Good thing you saw that in MTAC, too, Leon, or they would have had her. The Elkins LEOs are _really_ hot under the collar about that one."

"Can't say as I blame them; I hate losing cops!" Vance muttered, gulping his third cup of hospital coffee. "They probably weren't the first, though. That Pennsylvania state-trooper's car came from _someone_. DiNozzo will find that out soon enough, I'm sure. There's going to be hell to pay, and in more than one state."

Gibbs wiped his face in a tired way. "The first car I stopped: the bastard driving it pulled his guns on approaching officers. He wounded at least 3 officers before the others killed him. The second, the one Ziva stopped, is in an ultra-security ward at the hospital, as is the living gunman from the airstrip. All of them are carrying false ID's, of course. It may take awhile to identify them. Tony said that Miss D'Arcy seemed to know one, though. They spoke during that final fight, just before the town car blew up."

"I _**still**_ can't believe the shot that little rabbit made," Pescas said, shaking his head. "If she could shoot like that, why did she run in the first place? THAT makes no sense. I wish I had a camera for that one…" he mused.

McGee snorted. "She isn't military or a federal agent, Pescas; she's a civilian, remember? Shooting clay pigeons is different from gunning down another human being. Even practicing on paper targets doesn't really prepare you for that." He sipped his coffee and looked somberly at the table. "Not a bit."

"I guess you're right." Pescas said, yawning. "God, I feel like crap. I need to find some of that coffee." He looked at the CD case on the table. "What's with the CD's?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Tony said they contain evidence. We need to get them to Abby. She'll sort it out."

McGee brightened. "Maybe the key to Bell's files is on them; I can run them over now. Do you want a ride back to the office, Boss?"

Gibbs shook his head without looking up. "I'm going to wait for the report on Ziva and Miss D'Arcy. I'll catch a cab. Pescas? How about you?"

He blinked. "I need to return the helicopter." He shook himself into rising. "My car is over at the helipad, thanks. I'll stop by tomorrow morning to help with the decryption process."

"We'll see you in the morning, then. Get some sleep," Director Vance nodded to Pescas, and he left. The Director turned to McGee. "You, too, McGee, and the same goes for Abby. Secure the CD's and then both of you turn in. We'll hit it fresh in the morning." He looked sternly at Gibbs.  
"Do I have to make that an order for you, too?"

Gibbs made a face. "We married now, Leon? 'Cause you nag like my ex-wife." He paused and then shook his head. "Besides, I want to keep an eye on our little rabbit. Four bastards just spent a week trying to kill her, and they nearly succeeded even when they _knew_ we were intervening. Somebody seriously wants her dead. Who's to say somebody else won't try, now that she's supposedly safe? We still don't know how she was being tracked!"

McGee looked thoughtful. "My money is on Bell's cell phone. If they knew about the switch, all they had to do was track his instead of hers. The tracer could sit in his office and transmit orders by phone. He could even suggest routes to take that would allow the chasers to sneak ahead and cut her off. Jenna said that she changed cars at least twice. That probably slowed them down a little, but it wouldn't for long."

"That's why I don't like it. We're assuming that it was the cell phone being traced." Gibbs shook his head. "Rule #8: Never take anything for granted! What if it was more than that? Where is the cell phone now?"

McGee shrugged. "It must still be in Elkins. The only thing Tony sent back was the CD case. That and anything on Jenna's person would be…" he paused.

Gibbs leaned forward. "What? Spit it out, McGee."

"I was just thinking," Tim looked at the table in front of them without seeing it, "the smart way to plant a bug: wouldn't you put it where the victim _wouldn't_ be likely throw it away? If our perp wanted to trace her movements even _before_ she disappeared, he could have stuck something to her driver's license or between some pictures."

Vance and Gibbs exchanged a look, and Vance nodded. "That makes sense. As soon as the docs are done with her, and she's safely in bed, take anything and everything from her person out of that room. Put it all in evidence lockup. We'll sweep it for bugs in the morning. I assume if there _is_ a bug, we can trace it back to the master program?" Vance asked.

"It may be possible, assuming we find anything beyond a cell phone GPS chip. I can technically re-trace the traces on that chip as well," McGee shrugged.

"I still want a guard on Miss D'Arcy, just to be sure," Gibbs insisted.

Vance pulled out his cell phone. "That's why God made Marines, Gibbs. You can't be on the job 24/7."

Over at the registration desk, Jenna's mother finished with the hospital's paperwork. She rubbed her forehead: exhausted.

"Ah hope that will do it," she sighed. "Ahm staying on base; the NCIS Director put me up, but is there any way Ah could spend the night here? Ah don't want to leave my daughter," she pleaded.

"I understand, ma'am," the nurse/administrator said soothingly, "but it's against regulations. You can stay in the waiting room as long as you like, of course, but you won't be very comfortable, and you won't get much sleep."

"When can Ah see Jenna?" the older woman pleaded.

"As soon as the doctor has finished his examination, Ma'am," the nurse informed her. "She's in X-Ray right now, and I believe she is scheduled for an ultrasound, but those won't take long."

"X-Ray? Ultra-sound? Ah know she was involved in a gun battle when the agents found her, but Ah haven't heard about any serious injury. She's just been running…" her face grew apprehensive. "Ah thought these tests were all routine…just for safety. What happened to her? Was she shot? Will she be ok?"

"The doctor will explain everything to you, Ms. D'arcy," the nurse said firmly. "I don't have the whole story, so it wouldn't be appropriate for me to try and elaborate," she explained.

"When will he be available?" Angela asked.

A physician walked in dressed in teal blue scrubs, with a stethoscope in his pocket. "Right now. Ms. D'Arcy? I'm Dr. Vance Myers. Can we talk?"

Vance, Gibbs, and McGee saw the doctor enter, and they moved to join the conversation with Jenna's mother. Seeing this, the doctor waved them all over to his office. He offered a chair to Ms. D'Arcy, which she accepted, and then he sat behind his own desk. The three men stood.

"What is going on, please? When can Ah see Jenna?" Angela pleaded.

"I would prefer you wait until morning, Ms. D'Arcy," Dr. Myers insisted. "Your daughter shows signs of moderate physical trauma, as well as dehydration, malnutrition, and exhaustion. Flatly, she needs to rest. I've started her on an IV drip of fluids, and she is being escorted to a bed as we speak. It would be best if you waited until morning to speak to her, to give her a chance to recover."

"When can we get a statement from her?" Vance asked. "We're trying to catch the person or persons responsible for her condition right now."

Dr. Myers shook his head. "Again, that will have to wait until morning. She can't stay conscious very long; she fell asleep several times in X-ray. I think she was running on adrenaline at the end. As soon as she knew she was safe, she just passed out."

"Can you tell us about her injuries?" Gibbs prompted.

Dr. Myers glanced at Ms. D'Arcy uncomfortably. "Well, they're being photographed and catalogued now; you'll have a full report in the morning…" he hedged.

Angela D'Arcy dabbed at her eyes again and took a deep breath. "It's ok, Doctor. I want to hear it, and these men are trying to help her."

Dr. Myers grimaced. "In street language: somebody tried to beat her to death, and came very close to succeeding." He folded his hands in front of him. "I found two partial skull fractures: one in front and one on the back of her skull. She had extensive trauma to her face and neck, and fist marks on her chest and abdominal cavity. I found three cracked ribs, but no further complications to her organs. We found finger marks on her wrists and throat where she was held and choked. From what I've seen and been told, I find it hard to believe she has been driving for a week in this condition, much less had the mental capability to deal with the stress of a chase. She had to have had help."

Ms. D'Arcy began to get indignant. "And this is 'moderate' physical trauma?" she said with disbelief.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Ms. D'Arcy, this is a _military_ hospital. We deal with injuries from gunshot wounds, IED's, land mines, napalm, and similar trauma all the time. Some of my worst patients come in missing limbs and eyes…your daughter's injuries are 'simply' the result of hand-to-hand combat. I've seen MUCH worse, believe me. Her appearance, though shocking now, will normalize in about a month. Two months from now, you won't know she was beaten at all, unless you ask her about it." He paused. "She should see a counselor after her release. There may be complications of PTSD; she shouldn't face that alone."

Angela swallowed and sat back. "Ahm sorry, Ah had no idea…"

Gibbs squatted and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't apologize, Angela. Nobody's child should have to go through this. Jenna's a tough girl: you should have seen her at the pick-up, you would be very proud."

"Did she really shoot down a grenade mid-air, boss?" McGee asked curiously.

"Nope," Gibbs shook his head, "_two_ of them."

Ms. D'Arcy looked incredulous. "She did _what_?"

Doctor Myers gaped in disbelief. "You must be joking!" he exclaimed.

Gibbs smiled broadly. "Nope. The bastards each threw a grenade at her, and she shot both down with her rifle. After we got her in the helicopter, she _still_ had enough gumption to warn my agent to stay away from her cookies, or she would shoot him in the..."

Ms. D'Arcy smiled for the first time and cut Gibbs off. "Ah get the ahdea. That's my baby, oll right. Don't EVER mess with her cookies. An' she can put a bullet through a quarter at 100 meetas. Ahve seen her do it."

McGee chuckled a little. "Tough little rabbit," he said.

Ms. D'Arcy nodded. "She's a Texan, Agent McGee. Our jackrabbits are gamey."

"So we saw," Director Vance remarked. "Angela, I'm going to place two guards outside your daughter's room for tonight, and an agent in the room with her. She'll be safe enough. Why don't you let me drive you back to your housing unit? I can arrange a ride back here first thing in the morning. You should rest and freshen up before you see her. It will make a difference."

She sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Very well, Director. I'll just visit the ladies room before we go. If you gentlemen will excuse me." She rose and left the office.

Dr Myers scowled at Director Vance. "Director, just how do you intend to place an officer inside a patient's room? This woman has had enough for one week without a strange man hovering beside her bed."

"I said "agent", Doctor; I never mentioned a man," Vance said cagily. "What is Agent David's condition?"

"Ahhh…" the doctor nodded conspiratorially. "Well, she had a mild whiplash and concussion from her auto-vehicular. Not life-threatening, but I could keep her overnight for observation. She shouldn't drive with the pain medications in her system," he offered.

"Can you find her a bed?" Vance asked sagely.

"Absolutely," Dr. Myers nodded.

"Then that will do," Vance nodded to Dr. Myers and turned to Gibbs. "Gibbs…"

"I'll explain everything to Ziva," Gibbs nodded, and then something else occurred to him. "Oh, doctor? Agent David might need a C-Pap machine…really bad sleep apnea, from reports I've seen."

Vance heard a noise, looked around, and spotted two approaching MP's. "Here come our watchdogs, too. As soon as you're done, meet me in the car downstairs. DON'T keep me waiting. Jackie's going to skin me as it is."

"Doctor Myers?" McGee spoke up at last. "I need to collect all of Miss D'Arcy's personal effects as evidence: clothing, jewelry, wallet, everything. It all has to go to our lab. We'll bring clothing for her to wear in the morning."

Doctor Myers sighed. "Follow me, Agent McGee. I'll have the nurses collect everything for you." He and McGee left the office, and Vance turned to Gibbs again.

"Gibbs, I meant it when I said 'sleep'. You can't keep running on coffee and bourbon."

"Yeah, yeah, so I've heard," the silver-haired agent groused.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**West Virginia Trauma Center…**

Tony stared through the glass at Barron Geld's scorched body. The gasoline fire and shrapnel from the exploding Towncar had torn through him, but he was still alive…barely. Tony sucked down some more hospital cappuccino and frowned. He wanted to interview the crispy critter, assuming the dirt-bag survived surgery, but according to hospital staff an interview wouldn't be possible for a few days, at least.

"If at all," he muttered. Personally, he thought the guy could roast in hell, but it would be a lot more convenient for Tony if he cleared his conscience before _that_ happened. "Damn, we need a break."

"Something I can do for you, Agent DiNozzo?"

One of the trauma room doctors had managed to come up behind Tony while he was focused on the scorched assassin, and the exhausted agent twitched. Sneaking up on him was something only Gibbs…and occasionally Ziva…could pull off, and he hated it.

"I don't think so," he muttered darkly, "unless you have some magic serum that can wake this guy up for half an hour. He's the only lead we have on the person responsible for this mess," he said, motioning with his coffee cup at the unconscious man.

"He is?" The doctor looked surprised. "I hadn't heard that the other one expired…"

"He was DOA when the ambulance got there. Really bad case of lead poisoning, if you catch my drift," Tony scowled at the blackened skin. "Not that he didn't have it coming. He was trying to kill us."

"There was a gunshot victim? I didn't know about that," the doctor said, shaking his head. "I was referring to the auto-vehicular that our local boys brought in this afternoon. They're keeping a close watch on him in ICU—apparently he killed a cop—but the last I knew he was still alive," he said conversationally.

Tony's head snapped around. "What? Take me to him!" he insisted, grabbing the doctor by the elbow.

A few minutes later Tony gave a feral smile to a man in another hospital bed: in traction, and with multiple bandages, but alive.

"This reminds me of that scene from "Kindergarten Cop"," Tony said cheerfully. "You know, the one where Arnold Swartzenegger is in traction after the big arrest, and his partner's fiancé comes in for a visit and accidentally hits the traction device?" He gently patted the pulley system holding up the man's injured limbs. "Yep. That's what this reminds me of."

Behind the bandages, the terrorist's eyes…widened.

**NCIS lab…**

Abby, curled on the floor with Burt in her arms, had fallen asleep in her lab, but her decryption program was still running. McGee walked in with a box in his hands and gently patted her on the shoulder.

"Abby?" He patted her shoulder again. "Abbs, wake up. We got her!"

Abby sat up groggily. "Uhn? What? OH! That's great! How is she? Is everybody ok?"

McGee winced, tight-faced. "She's a mess, but the doc at Bethesda is taking care of her, and according to him, she'll be all right. It was awful close, though." He pulled up a chair. "Tony was right about her injuries; she has a skull fracture, a couple of broken ribs, and a **lot** of bruises. We'll get the medical photos in the morning." He scowled again. "I don't expect them to be pretty."

"What if someone tries to hurt her again?" Abby rubbed her eyes. "What if…"

"Vance ordered a couple of MP's to stand guard outside her room, and Ziva stayed with her overnight," Tim assured her. "Ziva got a little banged up in the chase, too: whiplash and a knock on the head, and Vance used that as an excuse to keep her in the same room."

"What about Gibbs and Tony? Are they ok?"

Tim smiled. "They're fine, little red hen. Tony stayed in West Virginia to gather evidence and help their PD with the cleanup. We'll see him day after tomorrow, latest. Gibbs was taking care of a few things at the hospital when I left, and Vance told him to go home after that and get some sleep. He made it an order. Same goes for you and me. As soon as we get the evidence locked up, we're to call it a night. That way, we can start fresh in the morning."

Abby brightened. "Evidence? What did you bring me? Gimme, gimme, gimme, Timmy…" she chanted, reaching for the box McGee held.

McGee scowled with fake annoyance and pulled the box away from Abby. "No, you don't! Pull the flash-drive out of Corporal Codebreaker, and then we'll catalogue everything and put it in lockup. You need some rest before Tony gets back; he's bringing blown up cars, spent grenades, guns, and everything!"

"Ooooooo!" Abby squealed. "He always brings me the _nicest stuff_! Ok, spill." McGee cocked an eyebrow at her, and she smiled. "The box, I mean. Spill it so we can catalogue it, and get this wrapped up for the night…wait a minute." She had been pointing to one of the countertops, but suddenly turned back to Tim, her jaw hanging open. "Did you say 'grenades'? These psychos had _grenades_? Oh my God!"

McGee pulled Jenna's things out of the box and placed them on the table. "It was too cool, Abbs. If I hadn't seen it in MTAC, I wouldn't believe it either. The perps threw two grenades at Tony and Jenna, and JENNA shot them down in mid-air! Coolest thing I've seen in a looooong time!"

Abby punched the air, impressed. "You _go_, girl!" She started lifting items out of the box. "Let me see: one pair of jeans, one blouse, one set of skivvies…did you _have_ to take her skivvies, Tim? _Honestly_!"

Tim raised his hands. "Hey, don't blame me! The boss said everything. Don't worry; her mom will pick her up some clothing in the morning." He started grabbing items out of the box as well. "Hmmm. One purse: we can go through that item by item in the morning; Vance wants everything swept for bugs. Cell phone: bet that's Master Sergeant Bell's. Watch, hair ties, and the CD case. Tony sent that one along special: there's supposed to be evidence in one of them."

"OH!" Abby reached for the CD case, excited. "I bet the code key is in there. Good man!" She scowled over at the I-pod plugged into Corporal Codebreaker. "I've only gotten through about 700 songs with this thing. If I hear one more version of "Loch Lomond" tonight, I think I'll go crazy. With this baby in place…"

"In the morning, Abby!" Tim scolded as he stored the CD case. "We have our orders, remember? Let's lock it up for the night, and get some rest."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she sighed.

**Inside the quiet Betheszda hospital … **

Two marines chatted in quiet tones and watched hospital personnel pass by the door they guarded. Inside, Jenna and Ziva lay asleep. Ziva slept quietly, thanks to the machine that quietly pumped oxygen into her, but Jenna thrashed in a nightmare. She gasped in pain and cried out fearfully, but could not wake up. The noise woke Ziva, but she had trouble disentangling from the C-pap tubing. Seeing Jenna thrash, she finally stumbled over to her bedside and gently touched her.

"Jenna, Jenna: wake up. WAKE UP." Ziva patted her softly. "It is only a dream; you are safe!"

Jenna inhaled sharply, then groaned with pain and reached for her ribs. Her eyes finally opened and she looked up at Ziva's face, furrowing her eyebrows in the low light. After a moment, her breathing calmed.

"Th-thank yew." She looked around, confused. "Where am Ah?"

"You are in Bethesda Hospital, in Washington, DC. Do you remember?" Ziva took her hand soothingly.

Jenna blinked hard. "Yes," she sighed, "yes Ah do, now." Her head sank back on the pillow. "It's so hard to sleep. Ah keep dreaming about it. Every night Ah dream about it…" She choked back a sob. "Why?" she whispered, "why did he do this to me? What did Ah do?"

"Shhh," Ziva stroked her hair. "You must not blame yourself; no-one deserves to be treated like this." She held Jenna's eyes for a moment until the young woman nodded agreement. "Your dreams…this is normal; you have been through great trauma. They will pass with time. You are safe now; try to think of something more pleasant before you sleep. It may help," she suggested.

Jenna nodded and closed her eyes. "Ok…Ahl try." She opened her eyes again briefly. "Yew aren't a nurse…Are you Ziva?"

Ziva smiled and nodded slightly. "Yes. I am Ziva David. How do you know my name?"

Jenna breathed a little more deeply. "Agent DiNozzo tol' me about his partner from Israel, "good offica, crazy driva, great person to have on your six". She frowned briefly. "Ziva, what's a 'six'?"

"It is a military expression, from "Six O'clock", it means 'behind you'," Ziva explained.

Jenna shifted uncomfortably. "Ah thought it was something like that. Ah think Ah have something on mah 'six'." She reached around with her free hand and pulled a heart pendant and chain from beneath her. "Drat. Ah think Ah was supposed to give this to the nurse, or an agent, or somethin'. Ah can't remember now. Ah forgot Ah had it." She sighed. "Ah must have stuck it in mah pocket when Ah reached X-ray…"

Ziva took the chain and pendant and placed them on a bedside stand.

"We will take care of that soon; it is almost morning. Try to sleep now, ok? It is only 5:45 am. Breakfast will not come for a few hours. You need the rest."

Jenna nodded and closed her eyes. In a few moments she breathed deeply again: sound asleep. Ziva watched her for a few moments, then got stiffly up and walked into the bathroom they shared, shutting the door.

**Outside the room… **

A very pretty young nurse, a blond with a deep tan, approached the Marine guards. Her outfit was _extremely_ form-fitting, and she carried a combination clipboard/organizer. Her hospital nametag said "Stacy: LPN". She smiled politely.

"Excuse me, please, gentlemen. I need to check our patient; she hit the call button," she breathed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said one MP, "but we have our orders. Nobody gets into the room except for the on-call physician, the head nurse, or an NCIS agent. You aren't on the list, Nurse…Stacy," he got a _great_ shot of some cleavage while looking at her name tag, but quickly turned his eyes back up.

"Oh, bother," she sighed dramatically. "Nurse Ratchet had to run down the other wing for another patient; she'll be a while. It's regulation to attend a patient when they _call_, not to make them wait for _certain people_. I'll only be a minute. I just want to check and see if she is ok. If she is asleep, I'll step right back out…I promise."

"It's probably ok, sir," said the other MP. "She's been here since 3am."

The first MP glared at his subordinate. "Do you recognize this woman? I do _not_," he said stiffly.

The junior MP squirmed. "Well, yeah, just not by the face…" He reddened and twitched his head at the woman's tightly-clad derrière.

"I _see_," murmured the first MP sternly. "So, while we're supposed to be watching out for _threats_, you've been watching…"

Nurse Stacy sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's all right, Marine; I get that **all** the time. The doctors are worse, believe me! Can I check my patient, or should I wait for Nurse Ratchet?"

The senior MP thought it over quickly, and frowned. "Check," he finally assented, "but be very quiet. Take no more than two minutes," he ordered.

She smiled winningly. "I'll be out in less than that, I promise," she said with a wink.

She quietly opened the door and entered the room, and it closed behind her. Both MP's watched her backside as it slipped through the door, and then they stood at attention again.

The elder MP blinked and shook his head. His brain still buzzed with the shot he'd had of the woman's cleavage. "Now, how in the **hell** did I miss **THAT**?" he said a little dazedly.

"You were in the head," said his buddy. "She's walked by here three times already…"

**Within the darkened room…**

'Nurse Stacy' quickly looked at the women's beds. Ziva's was empty, for she was still in the bathroom, but Jenna lay sleeping peacefully and the 'nurse' moved quietly to her side. Opening up her organizer/clipboard, she scooped up the necklace and dropped it inside, then removed a full syringe. Reaching the IV line, she located the y-joint, removed the needle's cap, inserted it into the protection grommet, and pressed the plunger. The syringe contents begin to mix with the contents of Jenna's IV…

Just as Ziva stepped out of the bathroom.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

**The darkened Bethesda Hospital room shared by Ziva David and Jenna D'Arcy: 5:45 am. **

Ziva stepped out of the bathroom and found a nurse standing over Jenna, adding something to her IV unit.

"What are you doing?" Ziva demanded suspiciously. "We were not supposed to be disturbed. What is that you have just given Miss D'Arcy?" she motioned to the needle in the woman's hand as she advanced on her, glowering.

Nurse Stacy twitched nervously. "I can't discuss the specifics with another patient," she finally insisted. "It's something her doctor prescribed to…help her sleep." She removed the syringe from the IV unit, and placed it back in her organizer/clipboard. "I have to finish my rounds, miss. You should return to your bed…" she blustered.

Ziva quickly crossed the space between them; her bare feet made no sound on the floor. She held out one hand, staring suspiciously at the nurse's face.

"I will, as soon as you show me the doctor's written order," she said sternly. The other woman hesitated, so Ziva reached for her clipboard. "NOW. That is NOT a request!"

Nurse Stacy hesitated for one more second, and gave a nervous look at Jenna, who still slept. She shifted the clipboard around, as if to hand it to Ziva. "Very well…I suppose…"

She suddenly swung it at Ziva's head, and Ziva, her neck in a brace, could not maneuver. She tried to duck, but the organizer connected and knocked her aside. Her training took over, and she swung around and kicked "Nurse Stacy" in the abdomen, sending her crashing into the nightstand. Ziva jumped to her feet and scrambled to Jenna's bed. Landing hard on her side she grabbed for the IV insertion point that was taped to Jenna's arm.

"JENNA! WAKE UP!" She screamed, then twisted her body towards the door and bellowed: "**MARINES!"**

'Nurse Stacy' scrambled to her feet and tackled Ziva, but the action ripped the IV needle out of Jenna's arm just as she woke up. The fake nurse and the NCIS agent both fell to the floor; Nurse Stacy scrambled to her feet, while Ziva flipped up. Jenna screamed. Ziva grabbed the disguised assassin by her uniformed shoulders and slammed her face-first into the nearest wall, then grabbed her left arm and twisted it up and behind her back in a submission hold. She pounded the fake nurse to the floor and sat on her back as the MP's burst into the room. Ziva looked up at them in fury.

"**LIGHTS ON NOW**!" she bellowed, and blinked as light flooded the room. "See to Miss D'Arcy, she may have been poisoned! Get a doctor and some more MP's!" She set a knee on top of the fake nurse's back and pulled the woman's head around. "**Who are you?"**

Jenna grabbed the inside of her elbow, where the IV came out, and applied pressure to stop the blood that now ran from the wound. The younger MP reached her side, grabbed the leaking IV tubing and pinched it off, then grabbed the nearby phone and punched an extension button. The older Marine reached down beside Ziva, handcuffed the struggling 'nurse' and hauled her to her feet. Suddenly a blond wig fell off the woman's head, revealing dark hair.

The MP with Jenna hung up and turned to her, but she pulled away from him and walked over to the 'nurse'. Recognition and confusion twisted her face.

"Amanda?" She said with shock and disbelief. "What's going on?"

There was no answer. Ziva gaped with recognition; the woman she had just stopped from killing Jenna was indeed the Naz'rani receptionist. The disheveled woman stared at them both with loathing.

"WHY ARE YOU DOIN' THIS TO ME?" Jenna finally shouted. "WHAT THE HELL…"

"You chose poorly." Amanda snarled with loathing. "Now you're just in the way." She sniffed and grew arrogant. "Your navy dogs can't protect you forever." Her accent suddenly became thicker, and she lunged against the MP holding her. "We won't let you destroy this _'__ayla, mich liajli salis gharb zaniya!_ **You're dead**! You hear me, _jins charrira_? You and your _'__glijl_: YOU'RE DEAD!"

Ziva shoved the failed assassin towards the door. "Get this _CHARRIRA_ out of my sight, MP! Put her in secure custody, and THIS TIME, see that we are not DISTURBED!" She walked over to Jenna's side and took her by the shoulders as the MP's dragged Amanda away. "We will not let anything happen to you, Jenna. You must believe that."

Their eyes met, and Jenna nodded, suddenly tired.

"We need to get dressed," She sat down on her bed and looked around, distressed. "Ah don't have any clothes! An ya need to call yer boss."

Ziva nodded, and picked up the phone.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

Two new MP's stood guard over Jenna's room. Outside, Gibbs spoke with Ziva, who had donned a large fuzzy bathrobe over her hospital gown to brief Gibbs about the failed assassination attempt.

"And she hit me with this," she held up the organizer, "when I demanded to see the prescription she was administering. The fight did not last long; she expected to kill and get away, not face any resistance. If I had not spent the night, Jenna would probably be dead. Amanda managed to talk her way past our guards," she scowled down the hall, "_despite_ their orders."

"They'll deal with me over this, I promise. Where is Jenna now?" Gibbs asked, sucking on his coffee.

Ziva ran a hand through her hair. "She is in the shower and could be awhile. Apparently it has been some days since she was able to clean up; she certainly smelled like it, but was too exhausted last night to bathe. She will need clothing before we can move her, though, since everything she had on went to Abby's lab late last evening," she explained.

Gibbs nodded. "Her mother stopped at a local department store before coming here; she took care of that. I'll be back to get you both at 8am. Do you want me to stop by your place and pick you up some clothing?"

"Yes,_ please_. I would appreciate a change of clothing." She glanced down at the robe she was wearing. "I do not think this is appropriate work attire. It would be good if you picked up something for Jenna to eat as well. She is refusing hospital food: afraid it may have been tampered with before reaching her room." She paused. "Her concerns may be valid. Amanda managed to infiltrate Bethesda without being challenged. Who knows but that another person could do the same with her tray? Amanda's threats were very specific: they want her dead."

"What exactly did she say?" Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

Ziva glanced toward the room, then back at Gibbs. "Amanda said: "You chose poorly. Now you're just in the way. Your navy dogs can't protect you forever. We won't let you destroy this 'ayla, mich liajli salis gharb zaniya! You're dead! You hear me, jins charrira? You and your 'glijl: You're dead." Ziva took a breath. "As she got angrier, her New York accent faded, and she slipped into Arabic. "Ayla" means family. She sees Jenna as some sort of _family_ threat. The longer phrase roughly translates into "you unrighteous western whore"; "jins charrira" means "cheap bitch". Whatever _is_ going on, these attacks are very personal. I don't think it has anything to do with Master Sergeant Bell's investigation, although they may be connected by chance."

"And you base this on what?

Ziva rubbed her forehead. "It is just a feeling I have. I think you call this a 'gut'?"

Gibbs nodded, grim-faced. "Always trust a gut. What is '_glijl_'?"

Ziva grimaced. "That word does not make much sense. Its meaning can vary, depending on where the user came from; it is a farming term referring to small livestock, and can mean 'horsie', 'cow', 'calf, 'sheep', or 'goat'." She sighed. "It could be a general threat against Jenna and any of her family and friends, such as her mother or Master Sergeant Bell, or it could mean something specific. I simply do not know. Hopefully Amanda, whoever she really is, will be more forthcoming in interrogation."

Gibbs sucked down more coffee. I want you backing me up with that, if you feel up to it." He looked her sternly in the eyes. "ARE you up to it?"

Ziva smiled tolerantly. "I will be fine, Gibbs. Just get me something to wear. I have had a concussion before, and whiplash is also nothing new."

Gibbs placed the IV bag and organizer into an evidence bag and nodded knowingly. "I can believe that." He snorted and half-way grinned. "This is professionally embarrassing: injured and half-naked, you managed to take out another terrorist, after _she_ got by two fully clothed and armed Marine guards. I'm never gonna hear the end of this from CID, you know."

Ziva grinned wickedly and held up a finger. "Mossad: **1**," she held up the other hand in an 'O', "Marines: **0**. Heh, heh, heh!" She brushed by the new guards and went back into the hospital room.

Gibbs smiled and shook his head.

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Abby's lab, mid-morning…**

Jenna's clothing and personal effects lay strewn on a lab countertop, and Abby passed a sensor slowly over each item. Behind Abby, Master Sergeant Bell's flash drive had opened up several new files on Abby's computer. Abby's music pounded through the lab again, and a half-finished CafPow sat next to the computer. She scowled in concentration over the items in front of her, and did not see Gibbs-accompanied by Agent Pescas-walk in carrying the metal organizer and the IV bag.

"Come on, come on," she muttered. "I know you have to be here somewhere. You will not hide from me. _I'll get you, my pretty," _she cackled.

"And his little dog, too?" Gibbs said, setting his box down on an adjacent counter.

Abby jumped. "OH! Hi, Gibbs." She set her mouth in a stubborn frown. "Yes. I'm going to track down every little mutt, no matter where they hide. So far, they either hide very well, or are not here. What did you bring me?"

Gibbs jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "CIA Agent Pescas: Abby Sciuto, our lab expert. Abby: Agent Pescas, Master Sergeant Bell's handler."

Pescas smiled and nodded in greeting.

Abby sniffed dismissively. "No, I mean, what's in the _box_?"

Pescas butted in before Gibbs could speak. "Agent David and Miss D'Arcy were attacked this morning in the hospital. The IV bag contains an unknown substance meant for Miss D'Arcy; it was supposed to contain a simple medical re-hydration formula. The metal box was used on Officer David in the fight. It presumably contains anything smuggled in by the would-be assassin, as well as the physical evidence on the outside."

Abby freaked out. "GIBBS! OH MY GOD! ARE THEY OK? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" she cried out, and started to hyperventilate.

Gibbs glared at Pescas. "What are you, the town crier?" Then he took Abby by the shoulders. "Abby: calm down. Ziva and D'Arcy are fine. The woman wormed her way past a couple of MP's dressed as a nurse, but Ziva kicked her ass. I'll be bringing both ladies here in a few hours. Now, what have _you_ got for _me_?"

Abby nodded and calmed down, then picked up the IV bag and placed it in the refrigerator before turning to the computer.

"Please: what HAVEN'T I got for you, gentlemen," she said smoothly, "Master Sergeant Bell _kicked ass_ as a spy." She glowered at Pescas. "I hope his next-of-kin get one hell of a Death Benefit from you folks; you owe him **big time**. Look at the contents of his treasure box." She moved her mouse over the various files on the computer screen, highlighting several as she rattled them off. "We have **hundreds** of pictures of meetings with some well-known agents of terror from multiple organizations. Bell catalogued almost every penny spent by the organization. He copied emails, recorded phone calls, and saved travel records and bills of lading. He even seems to have organized a personal history, complete with photos, of everybody who worked for the Naz'rani Corporation since he was hired."

"Hmmm," said Gibbs. "It looks like he copied the form we use for cataloging military personnel. Smart move: probably saved him a lot of time," he said approvingly.

"Huh," said Pescas, "what is in this file here?" He pointed to another part of the screen.

"I'm not sure, but it looks like a 'to-do' list," Abby said. "I think it contains stuff of interest he hadn't translated or finished cataloguing yet. There are some pictures here that don't have completed bios, and some that don't have labels at all. I think some of them were personal, from the latest trip to Paris; they're full of flowers and mushy pictures and romantic places. Several photos are of him standing with a young woman."

Gibbs developed a distant look. "Yeah, Paris can do that," he said in a softer voice.

Abby gave him a_ look_. "You're scaring me, Gibbs. Focus, please?" Gibbs shook himself out of his reverie and started skimming the different documents Abby had on the screen as Abby continued talking. "Bell was using a translation program on certain documents. It isn't contained on _this_ flash drive, but I'd be willing to bet it's on another one of his CD's. He was doing a lot of copy and paste. When a document was finished, he would move both the original copy and a translation to another folder. There are _tons_ of finished ones. This one here, though, he was still working on…" she clicked the mouse and a side-by-side document opened up, one side in Arabic, the other in English.

"Hmmm," Pescas said. "That looks like a will…no surprise, since Chileab is the master heir to their father's estate. Chileab's father disowned Simeon almost 20 years ago, leaving his remaining son as master heir, and a pittance to the younger sister, Nemini. There's probably information in there about all of Chileab's actual property holdings. I bet the Jordanian government will want a look at this as well. How long do you think it will take to finish the translation?" He looked eagerly at Gibbs. "If it's a problem, I can get someone from my office…

Gibbs shook his head. "It's no problem for Ziva; might take her about half an hour. She's fluent in Arabic. Abby has enough to do, without worrying about translation programs." He patted her on the back. "Great work, Abbs!"

"You always get my best, Gibbs," she smiled. "Now, where's my Scooby-snack?" she asked greedily.

Gibbs motioned to the CIA Agent behind him. "Agent Pescas will bring you anything your heart may desire, WON'T you, Agent CIA-so-I'm-not-really-here-anyway-Pescas?"

Pescas started, caught off guard by Gibbs' volunteering of his services. "What? Oh, err, um, yes. What will it be, Miss Sciuto?"

Abby smiled at Pescas for the first time. "Please, 'Abby, Dark Mistress of the Lab' will do. Now, go fetch me a donut, lackey! One of those twisted, glazed, crunchy things with the apples cut up in them. And another CafPow. And a Cobb Salad. And…"

"ABBS!" Gibbs barked from the doorway.

"Ok, fine," Abby sighed, "you can skip the Cobb; it isn't lunchtime anyway. Now, SHOO, both of you!"

Pescas assumed a hunchback pose and a groveling voice. "I hear, and obey, oh Dark Mistress," he said, and slouched off after Gibbs.

Abby smiled and returned to her work. She picked up her sensor array and waved it over the contents of Jenna's wallet, then over a pair of slacks. Nothing happened. Scowling, she pushed the already scanned pile aside and turned to the box Gibbs had brought her—the one containing the metal organizer. She dusted it for prints, photographed it, and then opened it. Inside, she found a gold heart-pendant on a chain and a nearly empty syringe. She removed a print from the syringe, and then squeezed several drops of the remaining fluid into different test tubes. Labeling each, she placed one into a drug scanner and punched the 'start' button. She turned back to the IV bag, still in the cooler, when she noticed a flashing light on her bug scanner.

Abby walks over to the scanning wand; she had set the pendant down in front of it without noticing. The scanner was flashing red, indicating the presence of a bug. Her eyes narrowed, and she lifted prints off of the locket, then opened it.

Inside the locket sat a heart-shaped picture of Simeon Naz'rani and Jenna D'Arcy, cheek to cheek. The left side of the locket was empty. Using a tiny probe, Abby carefully lifted off the photograph. Beneath it sat a tiny computer chip. Abby scanned it with the detector wand again, and the sensor lit up brightly. A grim, satisfied smile crept across Abby's face.

"I gotcha now," she breathed victoriously. "You're MINE."


	18. Chapter 18

**NCIS bullpen: later in the day...**

McGee, alone in the squadroom, was on the phone with Tony, who was sitting in the Elkins Community Hospital waiting room…

"Tony, what's the VIN Miss D'Arcy's Mustang? I need it to trace it back to its original owner."

"I sent that and several others to you via email, Probie. There're so many stolen cars in Elkins PD's lot it looks like a set from "Cannonball Run". You wouldn't _believe_ the mess!"

"A set from what?" McGee wrinkled his nose at the phone as he opened his email.

"Never mind," Tony groaned. "Don't you EVER see a movie, McKillJoy?"

"Not since "Return of the Sith" tanked in the box office," Tim groused. "What about our chasers? Any news on them?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "We got two dead, one critical and in surgery as we speak, and one with minor injuries. The bodies should reach Ducky in a few hours. I have federal marshals guarding both living right now, though I don't think the guy in surgery is going to rabbit anytime soon. He has severe burns and shrapnel wounds. The other guy isn't talking much, despite my usual charm."

"He say anything at all?" Tim asked curiously.

Tony shrugged at the phone, though he knew Tim couldn't see it. "I mentioned his future life sentence of Al Qaeda bunkmates at Guantanamo while patting his traction equipment, and he _looked_ like he wanted to say something, but all he said was "Aghent DeeNozzoo, hav yoo ever ben kicked by a muule?" Tony finished the quote with a poor imitation of the man's accent to highlight his disgust. "After that he clammed up again."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tim gave the phone a weird look.

"Damned if I know. Maybe it's some weird new torture technique specific to the fashion world." Tony snorted. "Hey. I'm sending you some head shots too. See if you can identify these guys, wouldja?"

"Piece of cake, Tony," Tim reassured him as he processed the information Tony had sent. "We have Simeon Naz'rani in custody, and Miss D'Arcy is in the building now. One of them can probably identify our perps."

"She's there? Why isn't she still in the hospital?" Tony was incredulous. He remembered how battered the young woman had looked. "How is the little rabbit? She ok?"

"Exhausted, but otherwise ok," Tim told him grimly. "Healing will take time, though. The doc said somebody tried to beat her to death. She sleeps a lot-even fell asleep on the way over from the hospital-so the Boss stuck her in Vance's office to get some more rest. She crashed right on the floor. He's out all morning for some sort of all-military prayer conference, so he won't care. Of course, it doesn't help that she and Ziva were _attacked_ last night…"

"**WHAT?**" Tony almost dropped his phone in shock. He settled on gripping it ferociously and yelling instead.

Tim leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "The receptionist from the Naz'rani Corporation talked her way past the Marine MP's guarding the room," he explained bitterly. "She was disguised as a nurse: a really **hot** one. Once inside, she tried to inject Miss D'Arcy with, according to Abby, a strong cocktail of sedatives and Heparin—that's a _really_ strong blood thinner. She was supposed to bleed to death in her sleep."

"Bitch," Tony growled. "That's the last time _I'm_ gonna play doctor with a nurse…" He leaned back against the hospital wall, thinking. "Let me guess: Ziva kicked her ass." He inhaled sharply. "Ohhhh, wearing a _hospital gown_, too! I can imagine it now…_please_ tell me there's security footage…"

"Hey, **focus**, would you?" Tim snapped. "You've seen Ziva a lot more naked than that! Make sure the feds guarding our perps are aware of the situation. We don't want something similar happening there! You know the second rule of assassination: _eliminate the assassins_."

"Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country," Tony quoted back. "I've got your number, McGee. By the way; what's the first rule?"

"Kill the target. Duh."

"Sounds like poor business practice to me," Tony opinioned. "I'll pass the intel on, regardless." He leaned back and stretched. "Listen, Elkins PD is giving me a hard time about releasing these suspects to our custody. They want to prosecute _here_, since these guys killed two of their officers. Can you put me through to legal when we get done?"

Tim smiled. "Come on, Tony. It isn't the size of the warrant that counts; it's how you use it. Just remind them of two little details and they'll roll over for you."

Tony started to laugh. "My probie…making sex jokes?" He assumed a fake Chinese accent. "Grasshoppa has learned well…Ok, I'll bite. What two little details do I need to give WVPD?"

"_Federal _prosecutors can invoke the death penalty," Tim reminded him grimly, "West Virginia's cannot."

Tony inhaled soberly. "Works for me. Tell the boss I should be back sometime tonight, depending on traffic. I'll see you guys then."

"Bye, Tony. See you tonight." Tim hung up and returned to his computer. A few moments later his jaw dropped in shock. "Oh,_ crap_."

**NCISNCISNCISNCIS**

**Director Vance's darkened office:**

Jenna lay curled up in a corner, rolled up in a scavenged blanket, asleep on the floor. Her face twitched, and her eyes showed REM; she was dreaming again.

_She sat in her office, dressed after her tryst with Simeon, and nibbled on a large soft pretzel. A bottle of green tea sat on her desk as she entered figures on her computer. Chileab walked into her cubicle carrying some packages, and dropped a small one on her desk._

"_I picked this up from the jeweler this morning, Miss D'Arcy. He said the repairs are complete, and he even placed the picture back inside for you." He frowned patronizingly. "Are you sure you wish to keep this? You should not torment yourself with such a fantasy." _

_She smiled as she removed a heart pendant from the jewelry box and put it on. "Thank yew, Chileab. Ah would nevah call this a fantasy. This is real," She smiled winningly up at him, "you'll see."_

_Chileab frowned down at her. "__**Mr. Naz'rani**__," he said sternly._

_Jenna blinked, surprised. "What?"_

_He started to glare. "Do not assume familiarity with __**me**__, young lady. I expect my employees to treat me with __**respect**__." _

_Jenna's eyes widened, shocked at his attitude. "We went beyond thayat a month ago, Chileab. Please stop pretending otherwise. We're a __**family**__ now…"_

_Chileab grew angry. "It is __**you**__ that needs to stop pretending. Let go of this childish Cinderella fantasy of yours!" He continued harshly. "It was just __**Paris**__, nothing more. He was __**curious**__, that's __**ALL**__. You are a __**fool**__ to believe otherwise. You are not his __**type**__." He loomed over her and placed his knuckles on her desk. "Walk away from this while you still have some dignity. Nothing more will come of this. Nothing can. It was just one night…like any other nights __**you**__ have had before, I'm sure. It meant __**nothing**__, and will __**profit**__ you the same," he finished condescendingly._

_Her mouth dropped open in shock, and her face whitened at his insult. "How __**dare**__ yew!"Jenna stood and looked into his eyes. "Yew're __**wrong**__, Chileab," she insisted. "Simeon loves me and Ah love him. Ah think you don't know him at all." _

_Chileab flushed angrily. "Do not challenge __**me**__, woman! Remember your place!" he shouted._

"_Mah __**PLACE**__," Jenna shouted back, "is where Ah CHOOSE to make it, and now it is at yor brothah's side! Yew aren't in yor Father's house any longah, Chileab. __**Those**__ rules do not apply here! As for your brothah's 'type', Ah suggest you let go of your fathah's gossip. It was __**always**__ a lah! Yor fathah was __**wrong**__…" _

_Furious, Chileab lashed out and slapped Jenna across the face. He swung again, but she blocked it, then grabbed his hand, gave his arm and expert twist, and slammed his head onto her desk. His eyes focused on a small item in front of him, and his lips twisted in a snarl._

"_**DON'T YOU EVAH TOUCH ME LAK THAYAT AGAIN,"**__ Jenna bellowed. "Hitting doesn't make yew a man, Chileab. Ask your brothah! Just because he won't HIT a woman," she twisted his arm for emphasis, "or treat one like GAHBAGE, that doesn't make him GAY." She released him but continued to yell. "Ah know! Ah married him a month ago, an' as soon as we ken, we're getting married again. Get __**over**__ it, and GET OUT!"_

_Chileab's face had grown dark and his voice was low as he stood up. He massaged his twisted arm as he stared at the desk. "What have you done?" he whispered, and the face he turned to Jenna was frightening. "My god," he growled at Jenna as he suddenly lunged for her throat, "__**Charrira**__… __**WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"**_

_Jenna tried to block his hands, but Chileab quickly punched her in the face and threw her to the floor, screaming in Arabic. Jenna screamed, but was quickly silenced by Chileab's hands on her mouth and throat. Chileab shoved her desk aside, to get more room, and spilled its contents on the floor. _

_In the dream all Jenna could see, over and over, were Chileab's hands and fists: slapping…pounding…choking…_

_The dream sequence was finally interrupted: a large black man pulled Chileab off of her and throwing him out of the cubicle. Master Sergeant Bell turned and closed the door, then helped Jenna to her feet and wiped her face. He pulled her into a hug._

"_Tex, hon," he soothed, stroking her hair, "stop doing this. This wasn't your fault; it was his."_

_Jenna shook in her dream. "Ah don' understand…What happened? Am Ah still dreaming?"_

"_Shh…Yes." He released her and smoothed down her hair. "You have to stop blaming yourself. Stop trying to figure out what you did wrong. Stop going over it in your head, while you're awake. That's why you keep dreaming like this."_

"_But Ah don't know why…" she protested, only to have him 'shh' her again._

"_That's not your job. Trust the Gunney; he'll figure out the why."_

"_Jake, don't leave me. It'll staht again…and Ahm scared. Ah cain't do this alone."_

"_Shh…you're safe. Trust the Gunney. You aren't alone anymore; my brothers will take care of you" He looked down at the ruined office and picked up the item Chileab had reacted to. "Huh, that's interestin'. Was this yours?" He held up the object for her to see._

_Jenna shook her head. "No, it was Casey's. We were gonna surprise you after lunch." She started to cry again. "Jake, are you dead? Please don't tell me yor dead. Not because o' me…"_

_Jake took her gently by the face and kissed her on the forehead. "Not where it counts, Tex. I'm damn proud of you, too. That was one hell of a shot!" He smiled and stroked her face. "Now stop crying. This is just a dream, and you need to wake up. You're at NCIS, now: remember? Come on, Tex: Wake up. Wake up, Jenna. Wake up…._

Jenna woke with a start: she was lying on the floor of Director Vance's office, and the room was still moderately dark. Gibbs was squatting next to her, his left hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

"Jenna? Wake up. Come on, it's nearly noon. You need to eat something. Jenna?" He patted her hair gently, smoothing it away from her face.

Jenna inhaled deeply, confused, and grabbed Gibbs by the shoulder, blinking. "Jake? Jake, is thayat yew?"

"No, Jenna," Gibbs said evenly, "it's Special Agent Gibbs, with NCIS. We met in the helicopter, remember?"

Sighing, she closed her eyes again for a moment and then nodded. "Ah remembah now. Jake… Jake…was here…he was talking to me…jest a minute ago…"

"You were dreaming," Gibbs told her, shaking his head.

Jenna nodded. "Ah know." She opened her eyes again and looked up at Gibbs, and tears started to form. "Jake is dead, isn't he? That's why he hasn't been to see me yet: because he's dead."

Gibbs sat down fully on the floor and sighed. "Yes, he's gone. When the time is right, I'll take you to see him, if you want." He paused. "He didn't do this to you, did he?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he wanted to hear Jenna say it.

She took a breath and wiped tears from her face. "No. It was Chileab. We were arguing, and he just…_snapped_." She looked away from Gibbs, as if trying to think. "Ah don't know why. Jake…jest now…he told me…"

"It's not your fault," Gibbs finished for her. She looked up at him, surprised, "I've seen that look a thousand times on a vic's face. What happened to you was **not**…**your**…**fault**." He looked at her firmly, trying to impress his point. "You weren't too slow, or not good enough, or not smart enough, or in the wrong place at the wrong time, **any** of that. Chileab **chose** to hit you. Even his anger is just an excuse, nothing more. But YOU need to know that," he tapped his finger gently over her heart, "here. It's not your fault."

She smiled a little. "Yew sound lake Jake, jest now."

Gibbs smiled back and shrugged. "We have a few things in common."

Jenna started to sit up. "Were yew a Marine too, once?"

"No such thing as an ex-Marine," Gibbs nodded. "Can you eat something?"

"Ah think so," she shrugged. "Mah stomach usually settles down after 'bout noon. Ah don' think Ah had better try anything stronger than soup, though. An' mehbe some toast."

"Your mom is here; she brought you something to eat." He helped Jenna to her feet and then saw the dismayed look on her face. "Hey, your clothing came from somewhere, remember? She flew in yesterday morning; one of my agents called her."

Jenna stopped by the door to gently rest her head against the wall. "Oh, no! Yew called mah MOTHER? This makes it worse. She's the wurst man-hatin' dahk west of the Mississip', an' south o' the Mason-Dixon Lahne! What were yew THINKING?" She groaned. "Ah kin NOT see her lookin' lahk this; she'll have a _hemorrhage_…'

Gibbs placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and turned her away from the wall. "Suck it up, Tex," he said with some humor. "It's in her contract to worry about you. I've dealt with Moms before, you know. Come on, out this way…" he reached for the door handle, but Jenna put out her hand and stopped him from opening the office door. He looked at her, curiously.

"Agent Gibbs," she said hesitantly, "Jake… he tol' me something else, just now, that doesn't make any sense."

"What was it?"

"He said: "Trust the gunney"." She looked up at Gibbs, confused. "What's a 'gunney'? Ah've neveh heard the term before," she admitted.

Gibbs paused, and cocked his head to one side, looking thoughtfully at her. "That's Marine slang for a Master Gunnery Sergeant," he explained.

"Oh," Jenna blinked, feeling foolish. "Yew got one of those around here?"

Gibbs laughed a little. "Yep: Me. I was a sniper, too, and _damn_ impressed by that shot you made yesterday. That was _really good_!"

Jenna blushed. "Thanks." Impulsively, she hugged the man. "Thanks, Gunney," she said, tears choking off her words again.

Gibbs hugged her back and gently tousled her hair. "You're welcome." He took her by the chin again to look her in the eyes. "You're gonna be ok. Now _walk_." He gently shoved her out the door. "Food. That way. And don't hug me in public, Tex, or you'll ruin my image," he groused playfully.

"Nag, nag, nag…"


	19. Chapter 19

**Elkins, WV General Hospital…**

Tony scowled at the still figure of Baron Geld lying in ICU, wrapped in layers of gauze and swaddled with plastic tubing. An oxygen tube forced the man to breath, while an IV line slowly fed him sedatives and antibiotics. What little flesh showed was an angry, deep red: the lesser burns he had received from the town car's final moments.

_He's already in hell_, Tony thought, glowering at the comatose terrorist. He took a gulp of his cappuccino and thought hard. Somehow, he had to talk to this man, but for that to happen, he had to be awake…and he needed an angle…

He turned to his smart phone and called up the information McGee had sent him. There wasn't much: name, age, a few parking tickets…nothing, really.

Tony scowled again, then smiled winningly and turned to the head nurse. "Sorry to break up your night," he said pleasantly.

She shrugged. "That's ok, Agent DiNozzo. I only hope we keep him alive long enough for you to execute him."

"Do you know what happened to his personal effects?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. "They're in a special bin. Follow me."

A few minutes later Tony found himself sifting through Geld's charred, bloody clothing. He handled it as he would evidence at any other crime scene: peering at each item closely before placing it into an evidence bag. At the bottom of the bin he found the two items that raised his spirits a little: the wounded man's wallet and… He smiled.

"I need to talk to him," he insisted to the burned man's physician ten minutes later. "I don't need much time, but I need him awake."

The doctor frowned. "I might be able to wake him, but the oxygen tube is going to make it impossible for him to speak."

"He can speak later. I just want to give him something to think about," Tony hinted.

The doctor nodded. Picking up a mild stimulant from the pharmacy, he led Tony into the isolation room that housed Barron Geld. Tony waited until Geld's eyes dragged open and focused on him before speaking.

"We got her; she's safe," he said coldly. "Two of your friends are dead, and the doc here says your chances aren't so great." He held up the scorched crucifix the ER staff had removed from the injured man's neck before operating. "Now, _you_ strike me as a man who has a lot on his conscience...

Geld's eyes widened…just a little…

**NCIS squad-room, just after lunch…**

McGee activated the plasma screen, and it quickly filled with pictures of the injured and dead men who had chased Jenna.

"Tony-the agent you met in the car yesterday-sent me these in an email this morning," McGee motioned to the photos on the screen. "I believe you know one or two of these men. Is that correct, Miss D'Arcy?"

Jenna sat in DiNozzo's chair in front of the plasma, while her mother pulled Ziva's chair over to sit next to her daughter. Angela, still anxious about Jenna's condition, alternated between holding her hand, rubbing her shoulders, or stroking her hair. She only glanced at the screen from time to time.

Jenna nodded. "Yes, Ah do. An' it's 'Jenna'. Only Chileab ever called me 'Miss D'Arcy', and then only when he wonted to act 'professional'." She made a face. "The bastahd," she muttered.

McGee smiled. "Ok, Jenna. I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee, by the way. You can call me Tim. We met over the phone, during the chase…"

She sat up a little straighter. "Thayat was** yew** on the phone? It's nahce to have a face at lahst," she mock-scowled, "but we still have to settle what you said 'bout mah music."

Tim raised his hands in surrender. "That was an act; I **swear**. I was just trying to help you stay awake!"

Jenna smiled. "Ah know; Ah was jest jokin'. Thanks, Tim."

Angela glared sternly at her daughter. "It's 'Agent McGee' while he's on the clock, deah. He's a _federal agent_!"

Jenna pulled a foot away from her mother, scandalized. "Mom, PLEASE, he's one o' the people who saved mah life. Would you relax a little on the rules, please? An' stop rubbing my shoulders like that; they're sore." She turned back to the plasma screen. "Anyway, Tim, Ah know two of them, sort of. This fella," she pointed to the picture in the upper left corner, "is Tel Armaugh. He works for Simeon as a designer. He's supposedly gay, but Ah really don' know fo certain. Ah don't know where he was from; he's only a passin' acquaintance. Chileab brought him on about three years ago." Memory kicked in, and she blanched. "Is he… Ah mean, did Ah …?

Tim understood and nodded. "**Yes**, he's dead, and **no**, you didn't kill him. He took fire from both Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo. They shot him while he was going to shoot _you_, after his car exploded," he explained.

Jenna nodded and her color returned, but Angela's head came up sharply.

"_Whom_ did you say?" she snapped suspiciously.

"Senior Agent Gibbs led the team that picked up Jenna in West Virginia, Ms. D'Arcy. You met him last night in Bethesda Hospital with Director Vance and me," Tim reminded her with an odd look. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo—we call him Tony-is senior field agent, second in command under Senior Agent Gibbs. He was the contact agent that intercepted Jenna in Elkins and escorted her to the rendezvous point."

"He's ok, mom," Jenna protested. "Kinda tall an' hairy, into James Bond movies a little TOO much, an' showed definite sahns of pistol envy when Ah pulled out 'Bess'." She chuckled. "Ah called him "Chewbacca" in the cah; it seemed to fit."

Tim burst out laughing. "I have to remember that one! Not that I haven't thought of it a few times…Ok, back to work. Do you recognize any of the other three men?" he prompted.

"Yes. This man," she pointed to another photo, "is Barron Geld. He was in the Towncah with Tel. Is he…?"

"Still alive, but critical," Tim informed her grimly. "If he lives, he'll go from the hospital to the brig. His wounds were from the explosion, and were quite extensive."

Jenna winced. "He was one of our chauffeurs, but Ah don't think he worked only for us. Chileab found the drivers after he joined Simeon years ago. Ah cain't remembah the company's name off-hand, but Ah'm sure it's in mah computer fahle. Ah had to print out their checks whenever we used their services. These other two guys worked as lumpahs. The one on the left is Mack, and the one on the right is Bron. Ah have their addresses and othah information in mah payroll account." She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "Ahm sorry Ah cain't remembah more."

Tim waved her concerns away. "Don't worry. We already have your computer downstairs, so getting the files is a snap." He frowned. "What's a 'lumper'?"

"Thayat's a gah who carries lots of heavy stuff," Jenna explained. "Ah think you would say 'product handlah'." She suddenly twitched and turned to Angela "MOM, would you PLEASE stop stroking my haih? Ah have a concussion, an' it **hurts**!"

Angela snatched her hands from Jenna's head. "Sorry, dear."

"Jest wait for the bruising to go down, ok?" She turned to Agent McGee. "Is there anything else Ah can do, Tim? Ah heard you found a lot of pictures on Jake's computer that weren't labeled. Ken Ah help with those?"

"Yes. I had Abby—our forensic specialist—email them to me." He smiled as he uploaded the images. "You may enjoy some of these; I think Jake took them in Paris." He clicked the remote, and the screen changed to multiple shots of different people.

"Oh my gawd! Ah had no _idea_ he took those!" Jenna exclaimed happily. "Thayat's us on the Eiffel Towah: you should see the fireworks from up there, theyah _wonderful_. That's Casey at a pastry shop with a mouthful of croissant…Jake had a fixation on her ever since she got the donut away from him at the office. That's when they started dating…"

Angela turned her seat a little. "What? Donut? Dating? Mah son set his cap on someone, and you never _TOLD ME_?" she demanded.

Jenna backed away a little in protest. "Please, Mom! It was his business!" She saw the looks on her mother's and Tim's faces, and acquiesced. "Ok, long story short: Do you know how to tease a model?"

"Ummmm, no, not really…" Tim said hesitantly. Angela only shrugged.

"You _eat_ in front o' them. Jake had this…THANG…about models being too skinny, so he made a point to eat all kinds o' _crap_ in the office. He would usually start a day munchin' on a long john. Getting it away from him became an office game, and Casey was the only one who ever won. We had a great pool goin', too…" she said wistfully, her eyes growing distant.

Tim exchanged an amused look with Jenna's mom. "How did she do it?" he prodded.

"She came in about half an hour 'fore he was due, warned us all to stay away from the doorway, and then painted about two feet of tahl with super-adhesive glue. When he came in…" she slapped her hands together, and McGee winced.

"He fell flat on his face when his feet stuck to the floor." He opened his eyes and shrugged at the two women, who regarded him with amusement. "Abby did that to me once."

Jenna laughed, and then grabbed her side as the pain struck. "Yeas. And the minute he was flat on his face, Casey popped around the corner from where she was hidin', grabbed the long john, got right down in his face, and bit it in _half_." She gasped. "Oh, gawd, Ah can't laugh like this, it hurts too much! They started datin' that night. Jake said: "Any woman smart enough to get my donut away from me, deserves a REAL meal", so he took her to dinnah."

Angela shook her head and laughed. "Thayat's my boy! He could out-eat a water-buffalo, given the chance." She peered closely at the pictures and suddenly grew angry, pointing to a picture of a middle-aged Caucasian man. "What is HE doing on this file, Jenna? Is he involved in this…this attack somehow?" she demanded angrily.

Tim blew up the picture for a better look, but then shook his head.

"We haven't been able to establish his identity, Ms. D'Arcy. I was hoping Jenna could help with that. Is he also an employee with the Naz'rani Corporation?" He scowled at the picture again. "I think I know this guy, but I can't remember from where. Maybe he's another terrorist?"

"Oh, good gawd, no," Jenna insisted. "Thayat's my biological father. We've never even met." Tim looked at her, shocked, and she shrugged. "It's a long, ugly story, Tim. Yor better off not knowin', Ah think." She turned to her mother. "Jake wanted to track him down, so he asked me for the photo, Mom. He said somethin' about "Marine distributive justice", and wouldn't give me any details. He could be just as impossible as you, sometimes." She rolled her eyes. "As if thayat's a competition to be proud of!"

"That explains why he used to bug me about it…" Angela shrugged and peered closer to one of the photos on the plasma. "What's this photo here? Isn't that you and Mr. Simeon Nazrani?"

Jenna reached for the remote, motioning to Tim hurriedly,"Ken we change the picture, please?"

Angela stepped between Jenna and Tim. "And y'all are under some sort of arbah…" her brow knit as she stepped closer to the screen.

Gibbs chose that moment to walk into the bullpen. "McGee, if you and the D'Arcy's are done looking at those pictures, I need to…"

Angela cut him off. "In a "Chappelle D'Amoure"?" Her face reddened. "YOU GOT MARRIED IN PARIS AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN **TELL ME**?" she shrieked, and the face she turned towards Jenna reminded _everyone_ of a harpy.

Tim's eyes widened and he backed off—_fast_. Angela reached for her daughter's shoulders, grabbed them, and started shaking.

"**YOU TOLD ME HE WAS GAY!" **she shrieked again.

"Mom!" Jenna gasped, trying to remove her mother's hands. "Simeon _isn't_ gay, he never _was_, and _yes_, we're married…sort of…" her face started to pale as her mother's grip tightened.

Angela only got louder and shriller. "**HOW CAN YOU BE 'SORT OF' MARRIED TO A GAY MAN? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?** _**WERE YOU DRUNK OR SOMETHING?"**_

Gibbs jumped in with a shout. Seizing Angela's hands, he forcibly removed them from Jenna's shoulders and _shoved_ her away from her daughter!

"HEY! **HEY! Break it up!**" He bellowed. "Angela, don't _touch_ her like that, she's injured! _What_ _are you_ _thinking_? **CALM DOWN! ENOUGH!**" He shoved himself between Angela and Jenna and faced down the furious woman. "**Ms. D'Arcy**, your daughter is a _grown woman_! She is _capable_ of making her own choices. **YOU TWO**," he pointed to both Jenna and Angela, "have communication problems, but _now_ is not the time to work on them. _**This is a police station, not the Jerry Springer show**_**!" **He shook a finger in Angela's face to magnify his point. "Now, I **NEED** to take Jenna downstairs to record her statement. You **NEED** to get a hold of yourself; this is still a criminal investigation! **DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" **He bellowed in his best Marine sergeant tone.

Angela, shocked by Gibb's manner, stepped back and swallowed once, then nodded her compliance.

"**Good!"** He took Jenna by the elbow and helped her up. "Jenna, come with me!" She rose from the chair, and when Gibbs pointed her in the proper direction she hurried off. Angela started to follow, but was stopped by Gibbs. "**Oh**, no: **YOU** **stay**! **McGee**!"

"Yes, Boss!"

"Keep Ms. D'Arcy out of my way. I don't care what you do; just make sure she stays HERE," he insisted.

McGee gulped and nodded. "On it, Boss," he said dryly.

**Inside the elevator…**

Gibbs maintained his glare in Angela's direction until the elevator doors closed, then softened a bit. He turned to the shaken young lady who hugged both the back wall and herself. "So…You never told your mother about eloping in Paris?" He prodded gently.

"Nope," she said, wide-eyed.

Gibbs nodded approvingly. "Good call!"

**NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS**


End file.
